


The Thirteenth Hour

by strangelysweet



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Persona 5
Genre: Ann Takamaki is NOT a sex object, Archfey, Asexual Sakura Futaba, Bickering, Cults, Dark Academia, Dark Academia AU, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Enemies to Friends, F/F, F/M, GNC lesbians deserve the world, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, LOVECRAFTIAN MONSTERS, Let Sakamoto Ryuji Say Fuck, Lovecraftian Lore, M/M, Multi, Mystery, One-Sided Attraction, Persona 5 Protagonist goes by Akira Kurusu, Rivals to Friends to Lovers, Sabotage, Secret Societies, Slow Burn, They all attend the same school, Witches, akira has really shitty parents, feral sakura futaba, fey, fuck you atlus, looking at you makoto, no really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23107981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangelysweet/pseuds/strangelysweet
Summary: Tokyo is not as you once knew it. After the Convergence, fey and demons flooded our realm, usually peaceful but mischievous.The Academy trains young people from all over the city with a knack for getting into contact with Others frequently, helping them to find jobs that utilize Their interest in them and use it to their advantage to keep the Other out of our lives as much as possible.The city itself is a mixture of ancient and new, complete with magic-infused technology and old tradition to protect yourself from the Other. The trains seem to move at whatever pace they want and the stations can become labyrinthine if you find yourself there too late past curfew.Akira Kurusu is sent off by his parents to a school in Tokyo, a gift to appease an Archfey in return for a gift that Akira was not informed of. He finds himself wrapped up in the exquisitely executed secrets within the Academy, secrets that could pull the seams of the world until it was nothing but madness and old gods.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Kurusu Akira & Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira & Sakura Futaba, Okumura Haru/Nijiima Makoto, One-sided Takamaki Ann/Nijiima Makoto, Sakamoto Ryuji/Kitagawa Yusuke, Suzui Shiho & Takamaki Ann, Takamaki Ann & Kitagawa Yusuke, Takamaki Ann & Morgana, Togo Hifumi/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 13
Kudos: 152





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> heyo all  
> this is my first time attempting a longer story than i'm used to, so feedback is greatly appreciated! if you need to ask about anything that needs clearing up, do not hesitate to ask me in the comments or somewhere else (idk where but you might??). 
> 
> anyway please enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trains receive an odd passenger

The trains always came at ungodly hours of the night. They liked the silence and uneasy calm that came with the odd commuter either nodding off slowly to the rhythm of the carriage beating the track or sitting there, dazed and enchanted by the faint sounds of bells and chimes.

The trains knew everyone in the city by their old, wizened hearts. They knew every thought the citizens of Not Quite Tokyo, every quiet desire, every small wish made to the deafening loud just outside the metal compartment. They had heard everything, from quiet gossip to ancient language capable of destroying the mind, from small yawns to cacophonies of Other screeching.

The trains had heard the chimes of the bells before the boy had gotten on one of them, followed by a deep infusion of heart-wrenching homesickness. For once, the trains did not hear anything.

He was silent, awake, and sore from grief.

The carriage was empty, the time was unholy, and the boy was still. The air was alive around him, like hairs standing on the back of one’s neck as a storm crept up behind the sky. The trains did not know who favored him, but they waited with bated curiosity for his patron to appear to him.

A flash of blue fire and the boy was on his feet, panting and tensed up like a cat ready to pounce. His eyes flashed the color of buttercups, the scent of violets hanging in the air like incense in a church. The voice spoke in a tongue that neither the subway nor the boy could understand, a shivering heap of too many consonants and too little spaces between syllables to decipher.

As soon as the power was here, it left, like a tide shrinking away from land under the waning moon. 

The electric air was smothered like a pinch to a candle wick.

The train stopped: _this_ was his destination?

They couldn’t move if they wanted to, to scream a warning to his soundless mind, to close the doors and whisk him away from the towering stronghold of The Academy. But, for the first time, the trains could not say or hear anything, trapped in a void of null.

The boy stepped off and all the noises swirled back into a vortex of nagging dissonance and cold anxiety. His back moved briskly away from the gleaming doors of the carriage, a slight flutter in his step.

The doors closed, agonizingly slow. The train couldn’t wait to wrench itself from the lingering presence of that boy, tearing from the platform.

The scent of violets and brimstone still stained the inside of the train, blooming like blood in water as the scent grew overpoweringly sweet.


	2. Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira arrives at the Academy, his new college.  
> He meets his roommate and stumbles across someone or something in the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoop whoop first revamped chapter!!  
> not everything will be the same, it might be a little slower, but there won't be too many deviations!!  
> happy reading!!

The Academy seemed to devour any warmth Akira had in his body and spat it back out him, cold and frigid. The halls were made of slate grey stone, worn and smoothed over from the rushing whirlwinds of fey dances and age. Akira ran his eyes over the leaded windows, noting the salt on each sill, a stoic reminder of what the world had to adapt to. The teacher leading him around ran a quick hand over the back of her curly hair, feeling the breeze from a drafty window slither past them.

“As you can see, the hallways are safe, but we must implore you to leave something sweet for our…” the woman mulled over her next words carefully, “… Nighttime visitors.”

She finished cautiously, offering an uneasy smile at him. He quirked his lips upward in return, feigning the mildness of his demeanor. The teacher glanced up at a large clock across the courtyard. The hands had met at 11:37pm. 

Her face visibly paled and she quietly ushered him to his dorm, murmuring quick apologies and pressing a small package into his hands.

The dorm room was terribly beautiful for a cold, dusty servant’s quarters. His half of the room was plain and simple, with a few of his roommate’s items straying over to his side. He saw dogeared copies of Oscar Wilde, Orwell, Byron, and countless others, but also copies of old manga from the 90s. A few vinyls peeked out from under the bed, an old record player soon found by Akira’s sharp eyes. 

Intrigued, he looked around for his roommate, only to be greeted by the teacher’s scowl. 

“That _damn_ Sakamoto. How hard is it to follow a curfew?” Kawakami said, more to herself than to Akira. She put her hands on her hips, but soon hurried away, exasperated sighs following her down into the gloom of the hallway. 

Akira was left alone, with a small honey-soaked loaf of bread in his hands and his bags.

He carefully unwrapped the bread, leaving morsels on the windowsills and by the door, making sure not to leave any opening without an offering. After distributing cake for the fey waiting ravenously out of sight, he started to unpack. He took care of each of his books, placing them gently on the shelf by his bed. Unloading all matters of Shakespeare, Wilde, Bronte, Keats, and Byron, Akira noticed multiple copies of the same books on his roommate’s shelves, but Akira’s were less worn and beat up around the edges. Cherished in different ways, they were similar copies nevertheless.

Unpacking his clothes into the mahogany dresser, Akira heard the door open. 

A blonde in heavy combat boots swung the door open, face flushed. He tugged the collar of his half unbuttoned shirt, hastily buttoned back into mismatched eyeholes. A few swollen marks on his throat and clavicle and the faint smell of bourbon gave enough proof that the blonde was meeting someone past curfew. Akira wondered if this was a common sight for the stone walls to see every night. The heavy jacket he was wearing was shrugged off of his shoulders and onto the floor, and the blonde spoke:

“Yo. I’m guessing you’re the new roommate?”

He smiled a wide and sincere grin.

“Sakamoto Ryuji. You’ve prolly heard a bunch about me from Kawakami.”

Akira blinked, then shrugged. 

“I’m Kurusu Akira. Just transferred.”

Sakamoto smiled. 

“Oh, that’s cool, man. You want some help unpacking your stuff?” 

Sakamoto eagerly helped the dark-haired transfer student to empty the contents of his suitcase, talking brightly about some of the books he pulled from the case.

“Dude! Is that the collector’s edition of Hamlet? Wow, didn’t take you for a Hamlet fan.” He teased, nudging Akira with his elbow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Akira smiled coyly, already starting to warm up to Sakamoto. The blonde laughed. 

“Nothin’, nothin’. Hey, I’ve got this one too. You really like your Bryon and Wilde.” 

Akira tensed, ready for the punchline. None came. Sakamoto only raved on about his own collection of poetry. Akira mentally kicked himself for assuming this boy was dumb. He may not have been eloquent, but he was bright. They kicked off their shoes and sighed, arms aching from all their hard work. The sky behind them was dark velvet. Akira had never seen stars like the ones outside, spread across the sky like pearls in a lady’s jewelry box. Sakamoto flicked the lid off of a flask.

“Wanna sip?” He nodded to the flask. Akira took it, the cold metal biting into his hand. 

It was fiery, burning down the back of his throat like sandpaper. His mouth was left dry and smoky. Akira coughed. 

“Not a whiskey guy?” Sakamoto grinned, the flask pressed to his lips. Akira shook his head bashfully.

“Sadly not. I enjoy coffee more than alcohol.” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, then stopped himself. 

He could not show weakness. He had to be strong. 

Sakamoto patted his arm. Akira shook himself out of his trance and smiled, turning to face the blonde. 

“You good there? You looked a bit… Sad.” 

Akira shook his head, then yawned. Sakamoto did the same. They laughed for a moment, puzzle pieces clicking together to form an image Akira hadn’t seen in a while: Friendship.

Akira woke up with a bite mark on his hand. 

Apparently, the fey were not satisfied with the cake. Rude. He kicked the sheets off to the side of the bed, changing his clothes into something suitable for some early morning wandering in a cold castle. He remembered where in the dresser he put his turtleneck sweater, rifling through his clothes until he found his coveted item of clothing. He pulled it over his head and walked out of the dorm.

The halls were silent. They seemed to swallow the noise of Akira’s footsteps in the early morning. He found himself turning corners he didn’t know were there, walking up and down stairs that led to doors upon doors. Soon, he stopped in front of a wide, deep brown door with a hefty handle. He pushed, surprised at how easily the door opened despite its size. It shut noiselessly, another accomplice in Akira’s mission to stay as quiet as possible. 

He looked up at tomes and books stretching across shelves and shelves of books, the stairs leading up to higher levels of the room, eventually to the glass dome at the ceiling. He had found the library.

Or, rather, the library let him discover it.

Either way, Akira was ravenous for a good, new read. 

He traced along the spines delicately, as if pressing too hard would disintegrate them into dust, aged and fine. The stairs seemed to have moved at a 45-degree angle when Akira descends from browsing the second floor. He loved the uncanniness of it. He had grown up with tales of the fey as bedtime stories, cautionary morals about demons and an intense thirst to be taken away to a place better than anything Akira could ever be. 

He lost himself in thought, reminiscing the day his parents had finally come out of their study, decaying and bloody. Akira didn't know how long they had been in there like that. Part of him thought it was a welcome change. All they ever did was chastise and belittle him. And yet, surely that would have been better than _this_ outcome. Waxy, stiff figures in wooden boxes, soon to be eaten away by the earth. He attended the funeral, the rains of spring soaking him to the core. He didn’t know if it was best to bury the memories with them, to start off clean. New name, new town, new school. He wasn't given a choice.

The only thing tangible in that memory that was worth remembering was the scent the house carried when he left. A reason why he could never go back.

The smell of blood and the taste of salt. 

Akira could taste blood now, wondering why they gave him away to an Archfey, a powerful being from the Other Realm, when they hadn’t summoned one. There was no uncanny brightness, just blood and seawater. They had given him away for what, seasickness that could only come with the rush of power, wealth, fame, or retribution? 

Akira could taste blood because he had bitten his lip too hard in concentrated thought. Escapism was his greatest vice. He grimaced, wiping the blood away and cradling the books as he searched fruitlessly for a desk to register the books he was taking out. Turning behind shelf after shelf, descending and ascending staircases in search for a librarian, Akira grew frustrated. met with countless dead ends and repeating shelves, he growled behind his teeth, clutching the books into his chest until his arms hurt from the tension. He could almost hear laughter and the beating of ebony black wings. The bitterness of his still bleeding lip set his jaw on edge, unquivering like iron. Akira swallowed, knuckles white against the leather-bound hardback volumes. He turned a corner, expecting nothing yet receiving a sight that made him look twice.

A boy with hazelnut-colored hair was sitting in front of a window, his silhouette highlighted by the rising sun. He had an open book in his hands, and he was flicking the page over, too deep in the words on the page to notice his transfixed staring. Akira was frozen, static energy pricking up at the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end. The boy looked up, eyes the color of rust and old blood. Akira blinked and he was gone, leather-bound book on the windowsill. He placed the books on the table and peered out of the open window, feeling the wind pick up at such a high altitude. He looked down, expecting something, but no one was at the foot of the high castle-like walls. The book opened, pages whirring in the wind. Their sound was soft and comforting, like hands stroking down the sides of his face. The book snapped shut, like a bullet screaming through the air.

Akira was suddenly down at a desk, holding his books again. He felt a rush of vertigo shake his gut, but it was calmed with the smell of wildflowers and lavender-honey. He looked around, expecting an open window and a rush of brisk air. But he was on a lower floor, seemingly in the middle of taking out his books. The woman at the desk was writing down all of the books he was taking by hand, a large ledger full of beautiful cursive. She finished with a flourish and smiled sweetly.

"Will that be all?"

Akira's tongue felt dry in his mouth.

"Where's the window?"

She blinked owlishly.

"What window? You've been browsing down here for the past three or so minutes."

Akira felt a wave of dizziness hit him as he tried to place where his thoughts had been only seconds ago. He tensed and relaxed his fingers, still able to feel the warmth of the sun from the window. 

"There was a boy. He was in front of the window, and there was a raven? I'm really not so sure. Then he disappeared and now I'm _here_ -"

She interrupted him, the smile wiped off of her face. Her hand gripped his arm, fingers clenched tightly. Slowly, she placed a finger over her lips and let the air hiss through her teeth. 

"This is a library. You should be very, _very_ quiet." She let go, her slender fingers finding her tome's pages. With a rapid flick of her wrist, she turned the page, peering up at him through her eyelashes.

" _Will that be all?_ "

Akira nodded, feeling the vice grip she had on his arm throb in pain. He left the library.

As the heavy doors shut behind him, he noticed the books felt significantly heavier than when he had first picked them all up. He glanced down, seeing new titles added to the pile. _Orlando_ , by Virginia Woolfe and _The_ _Divine_ _Comedy_ , by Dante Alighieri. He held the first book in his hand, turning it over. It had a beautiful, glossy cover, with the title in sweeping gold cursive. It seemed far too pretty to be a library book. He turned the book back around again, musing as he found himself walking back to his dorm. It was a Sunday, after all, so he could add these to his list of things to read. 

Akira opened the door, leaning against it as to not lose the page he was on. He quickly scanned the room, noticing that Sakamoto - no, _Ryuji_ \- had left. He had left a hastily scrawled note that Akira pocketed and saved for when he could put the intriguing book down. Finishing the chapter, Akira found his fingers placing a letter automatically to mark where he left the page. 

He hadn't noticed it, but there was an envelope in the back of the book, a pearly seal of wax iridescent in the light from the closed window. He noted how the letter had a strange weight to it as if it could sink a ship and be swept away by a small exhalation at the same time. He looked in his bedside table for a bookmark, eyes still trained on the white envelope. 

Akira took the letter into his hands, gently prying it open like an oyster shell. The ink was a dark blue that almost looked black, the handwriting sweeping and precise.

_Good morning._

_I thought you might enjoy these, as they are my favorites, and we seem to have similar tastes._

_Do write back to me about what you think about them, I'd love to hear your opinion on them._

_Yours._

The letter was not signed at the bottom. It was a precaution taken by many, not telling any kind of uncanny stranger your name as it could be swept out from under you. But the strangely intimate " _Yours,"_ struck out a dissonant chord in Akira's chest. It was almost refreshing to have that simple word on paper to stir such a strong feeling of belonging to him and the sender of the letter. Akira couldn't help but find comfort in that word, even though the writer had not yet revealed themselves to him. The uncanny, however beautiful, was always dangerous. It had been like that for ten years, so it shouldn't have changed now. 

Akira didn't care.

Anything slightly dangerous and intoxicating was a terrible weakness of his.

He couldn’t take the anticipation any longer and he opened the book.

Akira had gotten about a quarter of the way through the book when Ryuji burst in through the room, a bag of what seemed to be swords on his back. 

" _Dude_! Didn't you get my note? We're really late." He gasped, breathless. Akira blinked, confused. 

"Late for what?" 

Ryuji grabbed him by the arm and hauled him out of the room. "Self-Defense, dude. I'll explain on the way." 

They sprinted through the halls, dodging other students and teachers alike. Kawakami screeched at Ryuji to stop running but was promptly ignored. Ryuji did not explain on the way, much to his disappointment. Akira looked out the windows, the sunlight flashing through the panes as they ran through corridors. The courtyard was draped with vines, hanging over the archways. A girl with dark hair was sitting by herself, looking down at a shogi board. She placed a piece down and waited, as if expecting someone else to make a move. 

It must have been a trick of the light, but Akira could have sworn he saw a piece move on the board without her touching it. He was tugged around a corner and he lost sight of her. 

Ryuji slowed to a stop in front of a door, panting. He nodded to the entrance and opened the door.

"We're here. Let's go, they're prolly holding up the class." 


	3. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira attends his first class, meeting a prefect by the name of Makoto Niijima.  
> A certain blonde makes an appearance.  
> A letter is responded to.

The classroom was rather spacious, with a blackboard on wheels at the front. A tall, muscular teacher was pointing at it with a short piece of chalk. He watched as Akira and Ryuji entered, a sneer on his face. 

"Late again, Sakamoto. Who's this?" He asked gratingly. Ryuji rolled his eyes but nodded to Akira. 

"Transfer student. Didn't know he had classes on Sundays. Arrived last night." 

Akira nodded, swallowing. The teacher sighed but gestured to a room near the back. 

"Go get dressed then. Join us when you're ready." He said, then turned back to the blackboard. 

Akira followed Ryuji past the crowd of students standing in front of the teacher. They all regarded him with mild interest and some sense of bored disdain. One girl gave Ryuji a subtle handshake, bumping their fists together and tapping the backs of their hands together. She smiled at Akira, twirling a lock of barley yellow hair around her finger. A short, robust girl stood next to her, listening intently. 

The back room had a few lockers stacked together, all reminding Akira of his terribly unpleasant experience of high school. Ryuji tossed him a white t-shirt and a pair of red shorts, grumbling quietly. 

"Kamoshida's in a shitty mood. Try not to piss him off too much, he gets real unpleasant." 

Akira nodded, pulling the heavy fabric of his sweater off. He heard the shuffle of footsteps outside, the squeak of rubber soles against hardwood. Ryuji changed quickly, sliding his iron rings off of his fingers meticulously. He handled them delicately, as if they were on the verge of cracking like eggshells. Akira pulled on the sneakers and followed Ryuji out of the room. 

The teacher's name was Kamoshida. He was unpleasant, rather sour in nature, like wine that had festered in a mold covered basement. He had a soft spot for the blonde girl who knew Ryuji. 

"Well done Ann! Record timing for the girls' side." He called out, clapping his hands together. The girl scowled and hiked her shoulders up in discomfort. 

Ryuji scoffed and threw a glance at Akira from a few yards across the room. To say Akira was confused would be an understatement. Akira didn't know what was going on, and he didn't know why a school would be teaching students how to throw each other to the ground. He guessed it was because the school was on a few ley lines, but what did he know?

He ruffled the back of his hair, watching the students trade blows with each other when he caught the eye of a girl standing across the room. She was well-built, with an elegance to her that made her look like a panther when she walked over to him. He swallowed, meeting her eyes. She held out a hand. 

"Niijima Makoto. Prefect. You're the transfer student?" Her voice was stern and calm, commanding all who heard it to listen. Akira nodded, unsure of what else to do. 

She widened her stance and offered him a hand. Akira glanced at it, then at her, before taking it. Immediately, the girl swiveled, crouching in front of him, and flipped him over her back. He hit the mat with a harsh thud, wheezing as the air was knocked out of his lungs. Niijima dusted her hands off and circled him, waiting patiently for him to get up. 

"You've missed out an entire term here, so I'll be the one to catch you up." She said, flexing her knuckles. Niijima tapped him lightly on the small of his back.

"Straighten your posture. Fists up, make sure they're in front of your face. Your thumbs have to be on the outside of your fist or you'll break them." She grunted, swinging a hook at him. Akira ducked, then stumbled as he lost his footing. 

"Keep steady. Widen your stance, one foot in front of the other." She grunted, kicking him lightly in the back of his knee to shift his leg into place.

"Fucking hell," He muttered, watching her circle him like a wolf. Niijima's eyes narrowed. 

"Is this too much for you? Are you _tired_? Want to take a rest, and have the fey drag you into the woods by the hair?" She taunted him, punching twice with her left hand. 

Akira dodged both and gave her a smirk. He didn't see the right fist until it was lodged in his stomach. He winced, nodding slowly. He had that coming. 

"Yeah," He coughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Niijima nodded as well, but with more vigor.

"Yeah." She parroted, cracking her knuckles. Akira looked up, pushing his hair from his face. 

Niijima was light on her feet, bouncing ever so slightly to throw Akira off. He didn't know when she would move, she was spontaneous. He shook his head, realizing he was wrong. She wasn't spontaneous, she planned everything perfectly, always two steps ahead. She threw two light punches with her left hand, followed by a really hard hit with her right. Akira couldn't feel his shoulder. He raised his fists up again anyway, watching as she bobbed from one foot to the other. She faked out a punch, then took advantage of how vulnerable he was after trying to get a hit in. She grabbed his wrist, pulled him to her chest, hooked an ankle behind his leg, and pushed him back as she pulled her ankle towards her. 

Akira's back hit the mat with another thump. He stared up at the ceiling, blinking as Niijima came into view. She offered him a hand up. He took it, marveling at the strength in her upper body. Giving him a quick slap on his back, she moved past him to sweep a water bottle from where her stuff was piled. He exhaled, wincing as he rolled his right shoulder. She took a gulp of her water and started to unbind her hands, meticulously folding the material, and placing it in her bag.

"What's your name?" She said, looking up. 

"Kurusu Akira." He replied, wiping the sweat from his brow. She nodded, then ran her tongue over her lips. Her bottom lip was split, but it seemed to have healed a bit. 

"The dean wants to see you." Niijima slung her bag over her shoulder and brushed past him, striding out of the hall. She stopped in the doorway, then turned around. 

"Professor?" She called, not breaking eye contact with him. Kamoshida looked up. 

"Yes, Niijima-kun?" He said, placing his hands on his hips, laughing softly. She swallowed back a harsh reply. 

"I'll take the transfer student. Leave him to me." 

The locker room was definitely reminiscent of high school. Akira sighed. It was like he never left. Ryuji rubbed his shoulder instead of giving it his usually friendly pat. 

"Damn, Niijima really kicked your ass, huh?" He laughed, but he wasn't malicious. Akira shrugged, then tapped him lightly, leaning close to ask a question.

"Why did Kamoshida call her Niijima-kun?" He asked quietly, then pulled off his shirt. Ryuji inhaled sharply through his teeth. He, too, pulled his shirt over his head and leaned a little closer. 

"It's a running 'joke' he thinks is funny. Niijima is what we like to call 'one of the guys'. She's a bro, you know? Kamoshida thinks it's _funny_ to call her that. The problem is, we can't get it to the Dean because it's not explicitly derogatory." 

Akira nodded, then frowned. "That's a nasty thing for a professor to do. Is he like that with everyone?" 

Ryuji scowled, pulling on his button-up. He left all but three buttoned. "He is. He's a _total_ jackass. Real pervert to the girls as well, and you didn't hear this from me, but some of the guys as well." 

Akira winced, then glanced at the man standing by the desk. Something about him _did_ seem off. 

Makoto waited until she was out of sight before she spun around the corner, hurtling into her room. She let her bag drop to the floor, careening into her bathroom. She stared at the blood welling on her lip, turning the tap on and watching the water fall into the bowl of the sink. Her hands began to shake. She saw the blood behind her eyelids, dripping down, down until it hit the water, spreading out like lightning striking a tree. She could smell it, bitter and metallic. 

"No, no, have to _stop_. Come on, stop it." She whispered, her fingers starting to twitch. 

Her eyes fell to the blood on her lip again, and she shoved her hands under the water, scrubbing at them with her nails. She kept rubbing at them, wringing them as the water fell over the red half-moons she had carved into her skin. Deep, but not deep enough to bleed.

Never deep enough to bleed. 

Red, fat drops of blood rolling down the windows, streaking the panes with scarlet. The clicking sound of teeth and claws as they bit, the blood staining the ivory color of their fangs. 

"Please, just stop. Stop fucking bleeding, dammit!" She yelled, shaking her hands under the tap. 

She slapped the water off, panting as she wiped her hands on her shirt. Stepping out of the bathroom, she rubbed her thumb against the palm of her hand, praying that the blood had stopped.

Rain, washing the red away, falling down the panes of her kitchen window. Cleaning everything away, cool, clean rain. Makoto, alone, in the kitchen, watching the rain wash away the blood.

She let out a sigh and slumped against her wall, letting her head hit the plaster with a dull thud. The words "Niijima-kun" floated around her head, festering like maggots in an apple. She hit her head against the wall, sobbing quietly.

Ryuji and Akira wandered through the halls, coming to a stop outside the courtyard.

"Ryuji! Wait up!" A voice called from behind them, the click of heels echoing against the stone walls of the castle. 

The blonde girl from the self-defense class came up to them, ruby red earrings hanging from her ears like pomegranate seeds. Her friend was holding on to her arm, smiling softly. Ryuji grinned, slinging an arm around her shoulders.

"Ann! Have you met Akira? He's the newbie." Ryuji grinned, pointing at him with a finger gun. Akira gave a little wave, then shoved his hand in his pocket. A wave? God, he was an idiot.

Ann didn't seem to notice, smiling charmingly. "Hi, I'm Takamaki Ann. Just call me Ann. A friend of Ryuji's is a friend of mine."

Akira nodded, offering his hand to shake. "You can call me Akira."

Ann nodded to her friend. "This is Shiho. She's the best on the fencing team and the best in my heart." She said, dramatically clutching at her heart before laughing brightly. Shiho laughed too, her cheeks slightly pink. 

Ryuji muttered something about being on the team too, but it was lost in the giggles.

They all made their way past the courtyard, heading to the green meadow outside the tall arch under an intersection above the courtyard. Ryuji ran off to drop his swords off at the gymnasium, bidding the rest of them a hasty goodbye.

"Sorry to ditch on you so quickly, but Shiho and I are off to the Amphitheatre. I'll see you around, ok?" Ann said, calling out as she walked into the masses. Akira was left alone in a crowd of people, feeling just as small as he was when he first arrived.

The archway had a steady flow of students coming and going beneath it, the majority of them refreshed from the bright sunlight and warm temperature. The wildflowers on the hill bowed in the wind, students scattered around them. Akira felt the wind ruffle his hair as he walked through the sea of the Academy’s star pupils, the feeling all too similar to that gentle caress of raven feathers against his skin. He whipped around, seeing the boy with eyes like garnets at an arm's length away. 

He, too, seemed surprised, opening his mouth as if to say something. But with the passing of another student, he was gone. Akira felt his breath return to him, unaware he had lost it in the back of his throat for a few seconds. He turned on his heel, pretending that this was a _completely_ normal thing to happen twice. He kept walking, but the sound of wind chimes only grew more in the back of his head. He walked into the sun, the chimes ringing in his ears, deafeningly loud.

Akira lifted a hand to his temple, feeling the heat of his skin like a hot coal. The sun was too bright, the air was heavy, and the noise had started hammering at the back of his teeth. Vertigo swirled in the pit of his stomach, making his head spin with dizziness. A dull ache settled in his molars. A drop of blood fell to the ground, and Akira put his hand to his nose, feeling the sticky liquid drip again. 

Spots danced behind his eyes, the wind chimes no longer sounding clear and sharp, but layered and dissonant. A pair of hands shook him firmly by the shoulders, a voice behind the ringing of his ears urging him to turn around. He felt the hands move him so that he was walking backward, cool, and gentle in their attempt to pull him out. As he continued to walk backward, the chimes began to fade away, nausea fading to a dull pang of a headache. His nose was still bleeding, his hands cupping the blood around his chin, trying to contain it from spilling down his chest. A dark-haired girl with deep green eyes spun into his view, a white handkerchief in her hand. The only thing Akira could think at that moment was how _breathtakingly_ beautiful she was.

“Do not let it fall onto the floor, understand?” She ordered sternly, but she was soft in her touch against his cheek.

She placed the cloth to his face, letting Akira hold it himself. She peered intently at the floor, sweeping her hair out of her face. She hissed through her teeth at the small splatters of red on the cobblestones. In the tiny full moon-shaped splashes of his blood, clovers grew, bright green and in clusters. Upon closer inspection, the plants all possessed four leaves. Akira coughed, feeling the bitter taste of metal from the blood in his mouth. The girl looked up at him, suddenly swooping to wipe the stray pearls of blood running down his hands with her thumb. 

“Come. I’ll get you cleaned up.” She said kindly. 

She rushed him off down another corridor, steering him by his shoulders. She whirled around a corner, revealing another archway to a small, still pond. She knelt him down beside it, letting his arms go. She took the handkerchief and dabbed at his face, her brow knitted in worry. 

“It’s a good thing you walked backward when you did. They wouldn’t have let you go if you didn’t.” 

Akira gaped dumbly at her, his head aching dully. “What was that?”

She took a quick glance at his face and sighed in understanding. 

“You’re the new student, right? The one who was asked to attend by the Archfey?” She quirked an eyebrow at him, wringing the white fabric out in the clear water of the pool. Akira blinked, at a loss for words. 

“I… I guess so? I got here last night.” The girl smiled, cleaning off the blood from his face with the damp cloth. Her eyes twinkled under the soft reflection of the water. She withdrew, examining his face for any more blood, then wiping her hands off in the water. Akira did the same, the relief of the whole ordeal is over washing down his spine. The girl offered him a hand, shiny with water. 

“I’m Togo Hifumi. Don’t bother with honorifics.”

“Kurusu Akira. Thank you for your help. And sorry about your handkerchief.” Hifumi laughed. 

“You’ve just had a severely dangerous run-in with the Fey, and you’re apologizing about my handkerchief? I see chivalry isn’t dead, then.” She smiled, getting to her feet. A rush of butterflies exploded in his stomach, throwing him off guard. She was so _enchanting_. Akira stood up as well, dusting off his black jeans. His shirt was sticky with drying blood. He grimaced, pulling at the clothing. Hifumi hummed in realization. 

“I should let you go get changed. Sorry for keeping you. I’ll see you around.”

Akira waved as she rushed off, seeing the embarrassed flush on her cheeks through the arches in the stone corridors. 

Akira made his way back to his dorm, pulling off the blood-soaked sweater as soon as he got in the room. He stepped into the light streaming through the window, rummaging around for another shirt. He stopped, glancing down at the windowsill. A black stick of sealing wax and a box of matches were lying there, warm from the sun. The window was open slightly, swinging on its hinges. Akira pulled on a white shirt, buttoning it up quickly. He sat on the bed, holding both items in his hands like holy relics. The pull on his fingers to write sent him ravaging through drawers for a piece of paper and a pen. He pulled out his ink pen from the ink well by his bed, the black staining his fingertips. 

_Good afternoon._

_I must thank you for the books, even if we had a rather peculiar first meeting. I'm certainly enjoying your recommendations, you have a wonderful eye for books._

_However, I was wondering whether or not you are safe to correspond with. Life on the outskirts of the city is much more diluted, in terms of Otherness. If I gave you my name, would I be at the risk of having it stolen?_

_You also seem to be able to phase in and out of corporeality, which is alarming, to say the least. Is there a way for you to guarantee my safety?_

_That was all I wanted to say. It has been a pleasure reading your recommendations, and against my better judgment, I find myself asking for more._

_Yours._

Akira let the black wax drip onto the paper, sealing the letter shut. He wondered if it was too much for the reply. He didn’t want to seem too eager or needy for a reply, but he was just so _fascinated_ by the sender of the letters. Did they have anything to do with that boy with the crimson eyes? He let the wax dry, pacing around the room with the other letter, reading the text again and again. The door opened and Akira froze, his heart freezing for a second. Ryuji came in, snickering. 

“Hey, dude, sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Akira scowled playfully. He quickly shoved the letter in his back pocket, another hand sweeping his hair from his face. 

“It’s fine. It’s not like you sent me into cardiac arrest or something.” 

He said, practically dripping in sarcasm. Ryuji tried to keep a straight face but ultimately failed. He snorted in laughter then stopped, horrified by the sound, then promptly started laughing again. Akira snickered as well, amused by the look of disgust on Ryuji’s face. After he had stopped, Ryuji jabbed a thumb in the direction of the door. 

“So Ann and I were thinkin’ of introducing you to a few friends of ours. That sound cool?” 

Akira paused, thinking back to the letter and the black wax drying on the windowsill. He nodded, hands slinking into his pockets. 

Ryuji led him around the labyrinth of staircases and corridors, humming all the while. Akira watched as the sun shone like liquid gold against the windows, staining the shingles of the roof.

"The sunsets here are nothing like I've ever seen before." He murmured. Ryuji stopped to look as well. 

He chuckled. "You're always so amazed at everything. It's cute."

Ryuji pulled him into a headlock, ruffling his hair. Akira laughed, tugging at his friend. They stumbled around a corner, nearly knocking Ann flat. She giggled, then playfully pulled them apart, giving Ryuji an affectionate cuff around the head.

"God, Ryuji, can't you go five minutes without giving someone nasty bruises?" She poked his cheek, the light hitting the red nail polish like stained glass. Akira smiled, then accepted the arm Ann had offered him, linking with her at the elbow.

"Let's go, we've kept Yusuke waiting long enough." She smiled, leading Akira down the hall. A small set of stairs led up a turret, the light spilling against the brick like water down a stream.

At the top of the stairs, a tall, willowy boy was leaning against the wall. His hair was the kind of blue you saw on a magpie’s wing, dark and inky. Ryuji broke out into a sprint as he saw the boy, scaling the steps three at a time. The blue-haired boy made eye contact and grabbed Ryuji’s hand to pull him up the final step, and into his chest. They exchanged a fleeting embrace, their hands lingering as they pulled away, entangling briefly before regaining absolute composure. Ann rolled her eyes, following behind them as she gave a quick look to Ryuji’s faint blush. 

“God, they get serious withdrawals if they haven’t seen each other in, like, an hour.”

Akira blinked. “Huh, they must be good friends.”

Ann stared at him incredulously, her jaw going slack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> our favorite artist makes an appearance next chapter :33


	4. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira meets Ryuji's boyfriend.  
> Niijima is given a task.  
> Akira meets a seemingly familiar face.

“I was kidding, Ann. I’m not that ignorant, contrary to popular belief. And I definitely know a ’secret’ gay relationship when I see one.” 

Akira said, laughing so hard he had to lean against the wall. The blonde had her hand pressed to her temple, her gaze fixed on the floor, her lips trembling from trying to keep the laughter at bay. 

“I just… You said… Oh, sweet mother of Jesus.”

She burst into laughter as well, clutching her sides. Ryuji and the boy with blue hair looked down at the two as if they had sprouted a second head. Ryuji cocked his head to the side and peered at them, howling with laughter on the second step of the staircase. 

“Uhh, are you two good?”

Ann tried to form a coherent sentence but couldn’t breathe from the giggles. She could only point at Akira, who had slumped down the side of the wall, shaking with laughter. The blue-haired boy spoke, his voice melodic and deep. 

“Ann, really, the stairs are no place for you to be hysterical. You could fall,” His eyes met Akira’s and Akira felt all mirth fade into serenity. “You must be Kurusu-kun. Ryuji’s told me all about you.” 

The way his voice lilted made Akira’s apparently ceaseless laughter cease. He had a potent sense of stillness and elegance, almost as if he was the eye of the storm that was Ryuji’s energy and passion. He smiled delicately, his eyes bright and knowing. 

“I am Kitagawa Yusuke. Please, just refer to me as Yusuke. It’s wonderful to finally meet you.” 

Akira smiled, then offered his name: “Kurusu Akira, but Akira is fine. It’s a pleasure."

He offered a hand to Akira, pulling him up with unforeseen strength. He wore a cream-white, half-unbuttoned, billowing shirt that made him look like a mad poet, but the pigment and ink stains at the cuffs seemed to indicate he was a painter. Ann had stopped laughing, but her smile was still wide and pretty. She wiped a tear from her eye and pecked both cheeks in greeting. 

“Good afternoon, Yusuke. Sorry you had to see us like that.” She smiled again, this time at Ryuji. The boy grinned, slinging his arms around both Yusuke and Akira. 

“So, we ready to roll out? I’m picking a charm up from Haru in her dorm.” 

Ryuji and Yusuke were either really bad at keeping secrets or they were not trying to be discreet. Ryuji’s hand was often in Yusuke’s back pocket or playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Ann leaned over to Akira, whispering in his ear. 

“They’ve been like this since last year. Practically joined at the hip, and everyone else pretends to not know they’ve been a thing since then. It makes them think they’re really sneaky, the sweet little things.” She said, almost sympathetically. Akira chuckled, finally knowing the mystery someone that caused Ryuji to come back into the dorm late every night, shirt either barely hanging off of him or lost somewhere in the other party’s location. He could see how they were suited to each other, one fiery and the other cool. They balanced each other out without trying to overpower the other. Their equilibrium made Akira think back to the letter and its sender-?

Akira shook his head, clearing all irrational thoughts from his head. He didn’t even know if the person truly existed, and yet here he was, thinking about them like that. He shook his head as to clear the thoughts from his mind, and turned the corner to the smell of sage and lavender. A door was at the end of a corridor leading to a tower. The entrance was slightly ajar, with light plumes of earth-scented smoke wafting through the hall. Light the color of shifting beetles’ wings glistened from various lamps, staining the floor like spilled ink. Ryuji knocked, poking his head through the doorframe.

“Haru? It’s Ryuji. I brought Ann and Yusuke, but there’s someone else you might like to meet.” He sent a wink to Akira, beckoning him closer. A dreamy-looking girl with violet eyes walked leisurely into view. She wore a gauzy white dress, black mary janes with silver buckles shaped like moons, and had miscellaneous bracelets and necklaces that twinkled like stars as she traipsed towards them. 

“Hello, Ryuji. That’s your roommate right? Kurusu Akira? I’m Haru.” Her voice sounded like the soft swell of strings. She was a petite girl with fluffy hair that was cut to her jawline in a soft angle, making her face seem rounder than it was. She ushered them inside, closing the door behind them. Her room was larger than others, complete with a small kitchenette. Pillows and blankets were scattered across a small portion of the floor where she sat them down, her kettle in hand. 

“Tea, anyone? It’s my own special blend this time.” 

They all took a cup and Ryuji spoke out. 

“So Haru, you told me that charm was ready?” 

The brunette clasped her hands together in excitement. 

“Oh, yes! I’ll go get it for you.” She said, diving into a cupboard twice her size. As she rummaged around, Haru continued to speak: “I must say, I really outdid myself on this one. It’s not every day I get asked to do such a complex spell as this one.” Akira sipped his tea, gazing at the stained glass in the windows. They depicted roses and a beautifully colored night sky. There were cluttered strings of sigils and charms lightly tapping against the window, including some rowan wood sticks above the door. Haru came back in, a saber and its case in both her hands. Ryuji grinned, looking at her like an eager puppy.

“Aw, man, thanks Haru. You have no idea how much this means to me.” He took the sword and made a fencing salute before encasing it. Haru giggled and nodded, waving her hand nonchalantly. 

“It’s no big deal, Ryuji, we are friends after all, are we not?”

He cracked a wide smile and hugged her from the side, trying not to hit her with the sword. Ann took a sip of her tea, finishing it off and placing it on an uncovered surface. 

“What’s it for?” She asked, looking the item up and down. Haru took her mug to the small kitchen and put in in the sink. “It’s for Ryuji’s upcoming tournament. I cleared all of the curses that have been placed on it and gave it a simple protection knot charm on the case.” Ryuji scowled, his grip on the sword’s case tightening. “Those assholes think I don’t belong here,” he growled, “ They don’t believe that I deserve that fencing scholarship that I worked my ass off for.” Yusuke placed a comforting hand on his boyfriend’s arm, a stony look of determination as Ryuji finished. 

“But I’ll show them I have every fuckin’ right to be here.” 

Haru thanked Ryuji for coming and went to open the door for them all to leave. As the rest trooped out, Akira felt a hand grab his wrist. He turned and saw Haru, her eyes glowing intensely in the lavender light. 

“Something is coming. We must find the ninth before it’s too late.” 

Her voice spilled out of her mouth like oil on water, slithering away from his ears as soon as it came. She blinked and her eyes seemed to be their normal purple. She looked at Akira then at her hand, removing it like she had touched hot stone. She mumbled a “goodbye” and closed the door, a puff of warm, floral air pressing against Akira’s face. He turned to see the others completely oblivious to whatever just happened. He smiled, albeit a bit shakily, and followed them back down the corridor. 

That next morning, they all sat in the grass outside the courtyard, watching the sunset. Ann spread her arms out onto the grass below her, her copy of Romeo and Juliet in her hand. 

“I have to be as passionate and wise as possible but I just feel as if she’s not actually that mature. She’s, like,” Ann paused, turning her head to face Akira, “A spoilt child who doesn’t really know what love is.” She finished, propping chin upon her hand. Ryuji yawned, stretching like a cat in the sun. 

“Maybe that’s what she is, though. Wasn’t the point of Romeo and Juliet that the kids back then were in love with love?” Akira mused, the wind ruffling his hair. Yusuke looked up from his sketchbook, tucking some of his hair behind his ear. 

“Elaborate.” 

Akira turned to face him. 

“Well, it’s the way Shakespeare writes Romeo. He portrays him as someone who thinks love can be practiced and perfected. His whole spiel about how he pledges he loves Juliet to the moon, but then she stops him and he doesn’t know what to say, because that speech has worked for other girls before Juliet. He has this portrayal of love from the adults telling him about fate and the way that love at first sight works. Shakespeare then uses Friar Lawrence to show that those who believe in fate and star-crossed lovers push the weight onto children to fix wars and conflict when it was them who should be taking the blame.”

Ann shot up, eyes bright and inspired.

“Which then leads to the loss of innocence too early! In Juliet’s speech about losing her virginity to Romeo, it’s meant to make her seem mature, but then the way she’s so impatient and petulant shows that Shakespeare was writing her to be a young girl. Shakespeare could be saying he thinks the whole young marriage thing is bullshit!” She finished, panting and on her feet. Yusuke nodded, the tip of his pencil resting on his lip. 

“You both make excellent points. I think I agree.” 

Ryuji blinked, then made an “o” shape with his mouth in silent realization. “Damn, such a shame I don’t know much ‘bout Shakespeare.” He sighed, folding his arms behind his head and cast his gaze up to the top towers of the school. Yusuke spoke again:

“Do you believe in fate?”

Ann opened her mouth to say something but stopped. She looked to the trees by the edge of the grass. Akira ran a hand through his hair. 

“No.”

Yusuke didn’t push him this time, only humming quietly. The sun had begun to set, but the summer air was still warm and still. Venus shone brightly on the velvet sea of violet above their heads.

“I do,” said Ann, “Because its the only thing that is a constant in this twisted world we live in.” She kept her eyes trained on the forest. “The fae have been a part of this world for only a decade. I was about nine or ten when the Convergence happened, you know. All of the honey in my house was stolen in seconds. All I remember was the way their teeth clicked against anything that came in their way. I nearly lost an eye.” She chuckled ruefully, but her eyes didn’t match. Yusuke nodded gravely. 

“I was about that age when They came as well. I kept waking up in the middle of the woods, damp from the dew in the morning. I was plagued with dreams of the Queen. They seemed so visceral. It was almost like I could touch her, but I never did. I was always just out of reach.” He, too, looked to the woods. Ryuji placed a hand on Yusuke's, rubbing his thumb over the blue-haired boy’s knuckles. Akira remained silent, not feeling the need to dampen the mood any longer. He stood up, feeling the sun going cold as it slunk below the horizon. 

"I'm going to turn in early. I'll see you all tomorrow." He smiled, swallowing the feeling of unease. 

His friends waved goodbye, and he turned on his heel, walking towards the building. 

Akira woke up at midnight. Laying on his back, he felt dampness spread across his shirt, cold and clammy. He sat up, looking around him. He appeared to be in a wood, his dorm room long gone. Getting to his feet, Akira started to smell honey and violets, caught in the air like incense. Music was playing faintly, a light rippling behind the trees. Akira was pulled to it, like a hook was caught under his ribs, and was dragging him towards the warmth emanating from behind the trees. 

As he emerged into the circle of trees, he took in the sight surrounding him. 

Ethereal figures were dancing, drinking, eating, and singing. It was decadent, splendid, so beautiful it hurt. Akira caught the eye of a slender figure, attracting attention in the most embarrassing way possible for someone in their sleepwear at a party. 

"Hello, darling. You look a little lost. Care to join us?" They asked in a breathy tone, staring down at Akira. 

Their hair was the color of raspberries, vibrant, and heartachingly beautiful. They gazed at him, their saffron eyes breathtakingly intense. 

"Diarmad, love. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." They bowed low, their lips grazing Akira's knuckles. 

Akira was so shocked he couldn't speak for a moment, only gape like a very confused goldfish. Diarmad laughed, then spun him around, pulling him onto the dance floor. 

"Come, dance with us." 

Akira was about to step onto the dancefloor, he was so close, but he felt a hand on his arm. He turned, the sensations of moving slightly too fast making his head spin. A person with a black cowl had their hand on his arm. They tugged him sharply, pulling him away from the dancefloor. 

"Don't. Come, it isn't safe." They muttered, taking him by the arm and marching away. Diarmad scowled but didn't attempt to pull Akira closer. 

"The _mutt_ arrived." They said curtly, sneering. 

"Wait, wait. Hold on, do I know you?" Akira asked, the brightness making his head hurt. The person scowled under their hood but didn't answer.

Akira turned to look behind him, expecting to see Diarmad. There was nothing there, just a circle of trees smelling slightly of brimstone and wine. He was breathless, the whole ordeal knocking stones around his chest. He couldn't breathe right, everything hurt, and he raised a hand to his nose. 

His hand came back bloody. He cursed. The hooded figure stopped, then sighed exasperatedly. They tore a piece of cloth from their cloak and offered it to Akira. Accepting it, he dabbed at his face. The blood was soaked up by the scrap instantly. He frowned quizzically, bringing his hand to his face again. The blood had stopped flowing almost immediately. 

"What?" He murmured, blinking confusedly. 

"Custom-made. Come on, let's get you out of here, they're looking for you." The hooded person cleared their throat, holding their hand out. 

Hesitantly, Akira placed it in theirs. They took off, running through the forest. They vaulted over a fallen tree, bringing Akira close to their chest as they skidded down a sheer hill. Their hood slipped slightly, a flash of red eyes peering over the fabric wrapped around their mouth and nose. They yanked it back down, then pulled Akira tighter. 

"Hold on, we have to get past the river." They said, squaring their stance. 

They kicked off of the side of the hill, then sprinted over a large rock overhanging the river. Akira's breath caught in his throat as they fell through the air, the grey morning light filtering through the trees. The cloaked stranger hit the ground with their shoulder, pulling Akira in tight as they tumbled to the ground. 

The wind was knocked out of his lungs for a moment. Akira stared up at the sky, watching the clouds move like ink in water. Panting, he got to his feet, helping the person to their feet. 

"Let's go. We're nearly there, but they're tailing us." They said, breathless. Akira huffed but followed them as they sprinted towards the thinning trees. He looked behind him, watching as a light mist cascaded over the rock they had previously leaped over, stopping short at the river. He tripped and stumbled, cursing. A hand steadied him, pulling him forward by the wrist. 

"Mind your step. Keep your eyes ahead, there's no good in looking back." 

The pair skidded to a halt as they stumbled out of the woods. Akira's clothes were wet with dew, sticking to his body uncomfortably. He turned to his rescuer, opening his mouth to say something. They beat him to it.

"Wear iron for the next few days. You won't always have someone to step in for you." They growled, pulling their hood further over their face. 

"Wait, I think I know you," Akira said, peering to look under the hood. 

The stranger recoiled, stepping away. "You _don't_. I've never met you before." They said hastily. 

Akira shook his head but gave them the space they wanted. "I think I do. What's your name?" 

They glowered at him from under the hood, then averted their eyes, staring back into the woods. 

"Crow." 

Akira raised an eyebrow. _That's_ how they were doing this? Fine, two can play at that game. He offered his hand to shake, looking pretty cocky for someone in their wet nightwear. 

"Joker. It's a pleasure." He smirked, narrowing his eyes. Crow clenched their jaw, then accepted his handshake. Akira preened in satisfaction. 

"I'll see you around." He said, watching Crow turn on their heel, walking away from him. 

"You won't." They called from over their shoulder, waving a hand nonchalantly. 

Akira laughed, then looked back into the woods. It wasn't everyday one woke up in the middle of the woods. He recalled what he had done that night, checking over his nightly actions that might have pissed off the Others. His eyes widened after he realized what he did. 

Earlier that night, when leaving out the offerings, he remembered giving them salted crackers. Why he did so escaped him, but looking back on it, he knew it was a dumb move. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and started trudging back to his dorm. 

Makoto watched from the window as the Dean spoke, gazing down at the meadow. 

"Niijima-san, are you listening?" Kobayakawa said, snippy as usual. She nodded, eyeing the figures running from the trees. She made a mental note to look into that Kurusu boy from the self-defense class to debrief him on curfew rules. He didn't want to end up like the pair down there, on the cusp of expulsion when they would inevitably get caught. 

"I want you to investigate the upper corridors. There have been reports of strange lights in the windows and the recurring scent of lavender. It's most likely nothing, but one can never be too careful." The Dean continued, arranging his pencils meticulously on the table. Makoto turned then nodded. 

The Dean gave her a thin-lipped smile and nodded to the door. "You're excused." 

She left the room, clenching her fists. Patrolling the corridors for fey was the last thing she wanted to do, but the first thing she _had_ to. She owed that much to the Dean. 

Her mother and father would be proud of her. Her sister was, as high and lofty as she kept herself. It was hard living in the shadow of the Academy's fearless and endlessly capable Head Girl, but she had to see it through. One day, she would join her sister in the fight against the Otherness invading Tokyo. For now, she had to stick to kicking púcas out of the corridors. Makoto strode down the hallway, her footsteps echoing across the stone. A cloaked figure swept behind her, darting around a corner. She sighed.

"I know you're there. Come on out." She said, turning around. 

The hooded stranger sighed, then stepped into the hallway, holding their hands out in mock defeat. 

"Oh, wow, you've caught me now. Whatever shall I do?" They droned, sarcasm soaking into their words. Makoto rolled her eyes. 

"I could suspend you for this, you know?" She asked, sighing. They laughed and pulled down their hood. 

"But you won't. What a good little girl." Crow said, ruby eyes glinting in the dim light. 

"Be a good boy and run along, _half-breed_." She hissed, parroting his condescending tone. Crow scowled. 

"You don't have to tell me twice." 

Makoto narrowed her eyes, stepping towards him menacingly. "Apparently, I do. Don't make this any harder than it has to be." 

She cracked her knuckles, studying what she could see of Crow's face. He always wore a black scarf around the lower half of his face whenever she saw him, obscuring any identifying features. His eyes were all she had to go off of. He laughed humorlessly, staying put as she raised her fists. 

"Now, now, wouldn't want to disobey your master and hurt a _student_ , would you?" He taunted, then turned on his heel. 

Makoto watched as he sauntered down the hall, pulling his hood back over his almond-colored hair. 

"Get a bloody haircut." She murmured, turning away from him, and making her way to her dorm room. 

She couldn't stand him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter four coming soon!!


	5. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira stumbles into the library and sees far too many people out past curfew.  
> The student becomes the master. Sort of.  
> Akira finds something rather strange underneath the library.

Akira shuffled around the corner, praying that no one else was awake at three in the morning. He looked around, not recognizing where he was until a sudden light was produced on a shelf. Shadows licked up the walls like eager wolves, defining the room as the library. A single letter was set against the oil lamp, the pearly wax sill warm. Akira picked it up, watching as the wax shone like sharp teeth in the dim light. 

He heard a quiet thump come from behind him, knocking a book from a shelf. Noiselessly, he approached. He could read the letter later.

Ryuji and Yusuke looked back at him, eyes wide like two stags caught in the headlights.

"Uhh, hey, Akira!" Ryuji said, leaping off of the bookshelf and slapping a hand to his neck. 

"Ryuji? Why are you awake?" Akira asked, picking the book up and placing it back on the shelf. He looked at Yusuke, who was staring at the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

"Just wanted to, uh, check out the library at," He checked the clock, "Three in the morning." He finished, squeaking slightly. 

Akira nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure you did. I'll let you get back to, uh, whatever you two were doing." 

He restrained himself from calling out a "Use protection!", knowing full well it would get him an embarrassed slap on the arm. 

Akira rounded the corner, only to bump into another familiar face. 

"Oh! Good, erm, morning." Hifumi stammered, averting her eyes. Akira's face bloomed with color, staring down at her. 

"Uh, yeah, hi." He said. He could speak eloquently, he promised. 

They looked anywhere but at each other for a moment before trying to speak at the same time. 

"No, please, you go first." He offered, rubbing the back of his neck. Hifumi smiled, placing her own oil lamp down. 

"It's nice to see you without blood on your face. Not that it wasn't nice to see you before, but it's better without all of the blood." She corrected herself, blushing madly. 

Akira laughed. "Thanks. It's really good to see you too. Looking for a book in particular?" 

She shook her head. "No, just browsing. I had a feeling there was something I needed to see here, but now I'm wondering if it really was a book I was looking for." 

The statement left Akira reeling, dragonflies fluttering around his ribcage. She brushed her hair behind her ear, then looked up at him, her eyes bright like stars. "What brings you here at this time?" She asked, cocking her head to the side. 

Ryuji and Yusuke poked their heads around the corner. "Yeah, what _are_ you doing here, Akira?" The blonde parrotted, sticking his tongue out playfully. Akira opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by yet _another_ familiar voice.

"You all should be quiet. This _is_ a library, after all." Ann said, throwing a blood-red apple up and down, catching it each time. 

She took a bite, the crunch echoing off of the shelves. Stepping towards the group, Ann gave Ryuji's fist a bump, then slapped their hands together twice. Hifumi turned to Akira.

"You've met Ann-chan, right?" She said, softly. He nodded as Ann slung her arm around his shoulders. 

"Me and Akira go way back to about seven hours ago." She and Akira laughed, but Ann abruptly stopped.

"I need to talk to you. Meet me by the circular shelves in two minutes." She whispered, then walked off, taking another bite of her apple. 

Hifumi waved him a gentle goodbye, smiling sweetly as he walked around the corner. 

The circular bookcases were at the heart of the library, shooting up to the beams in the roof. Rolling ladders were positioned around the column, glinting gold in the candlelight. Ann stood against it, biting into her red apple. He sat next to her, putting his hands into his pockets. 

"Hey." He said quietly, not looking up at her. She swallowed, running her tongue along the front of her teeth. 

"Hey, yourself. What were you doing in the woods?" She asked, cutting straight to the chase. Akira exhaled, leaning back against the bookcase. 

"How'd you know?" 

She shrugged, examining her apple for another place to sink her teeth into. "Call it intuition. What did you see?" 

Akira recalled the golden lights seeping through the trees, dancing shadows eager to swallow anyone who strayed too far from the revelry. 

"A festival. A fey by the name of Diarmad tried to get me into the circle. Someone helped me out." He pulled at a tuft of his hair. Ann made an unintelligible noise, then sank down to sit next to him. 

"Ok, you can't ask how I know this, but you might want to keep a safe distance from your friend Crow. He's a little infamous for causing trouble around campus. He's not malicious or anything, just roguish." She gave him a small smile, placing a finger over her lips. Akira smiled back, nodding. 

"Thanks for the tip. Good to know I have someone watching my back." 

Ann gave his arm a quick hug, then ruffled his hair. "There's something good about you, I can just tell. Don't be a stranger, come explore Tokyo with me sometime." 

The next few days rolled around quickly, slowly becoming the daily shift of gears. Everything moved like clockwork, perfectly in place. Akira was the only thing out of place. He woke up late, for the second time, and was sprinting through the halls to get to his self-defense class. Cannonballing around the corner, he slammed his face into a pile of bricks pretending to be a human being. 

"Sorry, wasn't paying attention. You alright?" A voice called from above him, offering a hand down. 

Akira took it, feeling himself be pulled up like he was nothing. He stared up at a tall man in a grey trenchcoat. The man gave him a quick once-over, then nodded to the door to the left. 

"You better get going." He said, then walked off. Akira only noticed the ridiculous number of guns strapped to his back. There were firearms of all kind, just clinking amongst themselves as the man walked off, the smell of gunpowder leaving with him. 

Stifling his curiosity, Akira opened the door and slipped into his class. 

After getting changed, he was met by Niijima standing outside the locker room. She nodded over her shoulder, hoisting her bag up. 

"Come on, you're with me." 

Akira shook himself out, getting into his stance, and raising his bound fists to his face. Niijima circled him, bouncing slightly. She jabbed at him, then ducked as he made a sloppy swing over her head. He took the opportunity to knee her in the stomach. She coughed, then raised her eyebrows in surprise. 

"Impressive," She started, "For a novice. Come on, show me what you've got!" 

She punched him in the shoulder, then kicked him in the shin. Akira stumbled back, dodging as she attempted to grab his arm. Niijima eyed him, watching as he regained his balance. Students gathered around them, murmuring as Niijima swung at him again. Her fist connected with Akira's face. The pain stung like salt in his wounded pride. He focused, the lines of his vision blurring and unblurring like a camera lens. If he concentrated hard enough, he could see echoes of where she would be next. The smell of saltwater filled his nose, drowning out all noise around him. 

He felt submerged in water, the only sound was the rumble of the blood rushing through his ears. Everything slowed, and Akira could see what Niijima would do next. He moved in slow motion, grabbing her shoulder, and hooking his leg around hers. He pushed and pulled at the same time, knocking her to the ground. 

He emerged from the water, all the commotion returning to him. Niijima fell with a thud, then stared up at him. Akira offered her a hand up, then clapped her on the back. 

"Thanks, _Coach_." He said, reveling in the sour tone he used. 

Ryuji and Ann cheered from the sidelines, ruffling his hair or squeezing him with a quick hug. 

He laughed too until he started to feel dizzy. The water poured into his lungs, rattling around like a storm in a bottle as he wheezed. He coughed and phased in and out of consciousness. Staggering out of the gymnasium, he hit a wall, slumping down before pushing off. He made it to the bathroom before his knees gave out. 

Akira stared at his reflection, watching as it shook like puddles filling with drops of rain. Coughing and panting, he watched as blood poured from his lungs, mixed in a disgusting cocktail of seawater and bile. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

The door opened, Niijima standing in the doorway. 

"You were the one in the forest a few nights ago, weren't you?" She accused him, and her steely gaze sliced through him like a hot knife through butter. Akira either nodded or shook his head, but he was not quite sure. His head was lolling and his tongue was swollen. 

Niijima stalked towards him, tightening the bindings on her hand. She didn't seem to notice that Akira's blood was pooling in the spaces between his teeth, threatening to spill through his lips. 

"Now, usually I'd let you off, but what you did back there was unnatural. You moved quicker than I've seen a human move." She explained, her knuckles cracking as she clenched them. 

"I'm a prefect. My duty to the students is to protect them from anything Other," She looked him in the eye, smudging like a watercolor painting, "You don't seem natural, Kurusu. I'm even going to go out on a limb and say you're supernatural." 

She had practiced this beforehand, Akira could tell. She stepped closer, cocking her head to the side. 

"Make this easy for me, alright?" She said softly, smiling cruelly. 

Akira stumbled back, his back hitting the wall. Niijima pinned him to the wall, her hand digging into the nerve point in his shoulder. She drew her fist back, aiming for his nose. He hacked out a cough, the blood bubbling through his lips. 

Niijima's eyes shot open, then she recoiled, tripping over herself to get away from him. She muttered something as she fled the room, her face bleached white. Footsteps echoed through the hall, then a face peered around the corner of the doorframe. Hifumi gasped, then rushed to his side, hands fluttering like dove's wings around his face. 

"Akira? Can you hear me?" She urged, panicked. Akira nodded, heat fizzing in the base of his skull. 

Hifumi hoisted him up, placing his arm over her shoulders, and staggered out of the bathroom. They shuffled across the corridors, Akira's head lolling like a broken scarecrow. Blood dripped from his mouth, splattering across the stone as they eventually came across the large doors of the library. Hifumi laughed darkly, then pushed. 

The library was bright, the sun streaming through the circular windows around the table Hifumi laid him across. She brought out a flask of water, ripped a strip of cotton from her skirt, and dampened the cloth. Dabbing it around his forehead, she looked around for any other students. Humming quietly, she wove a spell from a small poem, reciting the words so they glowed as they left her mouth. Threads of the sonnet gleamed like fishhooks, hooking around the corners of Akira's mouth. The shimmering strands crept into his mouth, giving color back to his face. He sat up, shocked.

"Please, don't tell anyone. I have to keep it a secret." She pleaded, then revealed a golden brand on the back of her neck. "I'm feymarked. It was a gift."

Akira nodded, placing a hand to his throat. The magic pooled like honey and lemon in his larynx, soothing the salt away. He smiled gratefully at her, clearing his throat.

"Thank you. You're something special, you know?" He said, a little awkwardly, but he had the spirit.

Hifumi blushed, glowing like a waterlily filled with raindrops. "Thank you." 

Akira slid off the table, then sat next to her, leaning back on his hands. She tucked her hair behind her ear, turning to face him.

"Where are you from?" Hifumi asked.

"A small town. Right by the sea, too. Inaba. Have you heard of it?" He replied, watching as she shook her head. He laughed. "Not many people have. Where are you from?" 

"I was born and raised in Tokyo. Of course, after the Convergence, we lost my father to an unknown illness." She looked down, fiddling with the torn hem of her dress. Akira's brow creased with empathy. 

"I'm sorry. That must have been hard for you." He rubbed her arm gently. Hifumi glanced up at him, then smiled, as to wave away the concern. 

"It's fine. That was 11 years ago, I've recovered." She bit her lip, her hands trembling slightly. Blowing a shaky breath out of her system, she smiled sadly. 

At that moment, Hifumi looked older, more ancient than the foundations of the school. The woods seemed to ache for her, reaching out to brush their leafy fingers against the windowpane. Their jaws longed for her like a lost tooth, never quite able to fit back in without pain. The glow of her feymark reflected on her brown hair, and she looked like a painting. Not quite real, and not quite fake, just beautiful and sad. 

Akira felt her hand press against his, cool and gentle. "What about you? What are your parents like?" 

Akira swallowed. "They were fine." He lied. 

Hifumi winced. "'Were'? I'm sorry, I had no idea." 

"Not many people do. It's fine, you didn't do anything wrong." 

_Akira is fifteen, sneaking out to go to a party. He is skinny, bitter, and different. He is caught. His father grabs him by the ear and drags him back inside. Harsh words float around his head, filling his ears with sour poison. After his father is finished, Akira is locked in his room. His mother talks to him outside the door, nursing a fresh bruise._

_"This is your fault," She says, "If you weren't so rebellious, we'd be fine. We'd be safe."_

_Akira wants to escape, but he's stuck. They're all stuck, the clock forever fixed at a time that shouldn't be. The green light from their study hurts his eyes, filling his dreams with whispers, his mouth with seafoam, and his lungs with saltwater and blood. He wishes for a way out. He gets two dead bodies, their blood spilling from underneath the door. It bubbles, boiling like the ocean, and Akira hears a voice bigger than he could ever imagine._

_"Little one, why do you cry? You got your wish, didn't you?"_

_Akira wants to die, passed from family member to family member for a year until he's old enough to go to college. And he goes, praying that he's able to forget for long enough to have a decent life. He can't._

_Kicked out of the college in his hometown, Akira returns to what he thought was home. They don't want him. No one would want a problem child like Akira._

_The city of Tokyo calls, its magic-infused subway and its peculiarity beckon. Akira answers, letting it take him away to where he feels he has to be._

The Academy. 

By Hifumi's side. 

Crying. 

He excused himself, stumbling away from the girl sitting next to him. She called out after him, but her cries fall on selectively deaf ears. He hid in the labyrinth of shelves, waiting for the tears to stop, for his well to run dry. Akira cried until he couldn't feel anything, his hands shaking as he dug his nails into his flesh. The letter in his pocket was heavy, pressing into him like a brand. He opened it.

_Thank you for your reply._

_It's not often one gets a letter from someone they're not quite sure exists, so forgive me if I misstep. I'm still trying to figure out the mechanics of writing to someone I may or may not have conjured up in my head._

_Regarding your question on whether or not I was safe to communicate with, I assure you I'm not Other. It seems that we might have fallen prey to a practical joke of the Others during our first meeting, as you appear to be unaware that you appeared to be vanishing and appearing the same way you imply I had._

_Either way, I'm very glad you enjoyed my recommendations! I do hope to see you around._

_Yours_

Akira blew out a shaky laugh, then leaned back against the shelves. A click sounded, and he found himself falling backward. He tumbled down a slope, holding the letter tightly. He skidded to a stop, then watched as the shelf moved back into place. Smothered in thick, inky darkness, Akira was frozen still in shock. He looked around, unable to see his own hands in the smoky blackness. Akira recalled receiving a lighter from a friend of his back in Inaba, and that he always kept it on his person for safekeeping. He fumbled through each of his pockets until he wrapped his fingers around the cool metal. 

Bringing out, he struggled to get it open. Placing the letter in his mouth, Akira flicked the lid off, then struck the switch. Sparks flew, illuminating fractions of the cavern. He struck it again. A small flame ignited in the darkness, flaring through Akira's vision. The flame flickered as Akira turned to his left. A small breeze blew around him, almost snuffing out the flame. 

Shielding it with his hand, Akira ventured into the darkness, the letter still between his teeth. 

Shadows eagerly bounded along with Akira, waxing and waning under the meager light of the flame. He watched as a small strip of light grew bigger, noises permeating the horrid silence. Akira sighed in relief, picking up his pace. A large hall was lit with large braziers, banners with strange sigils and runes streaming from the high ceiling. Grooved into the stone floor was an odd-looking pentagram. Akira hadn't seen many, but he knew this one looked a bit off. The hall was on a raised foundation, the tunnel Akira had emerged from leading to a steep climb. One could crouch beside it and be smaller than the foundation itself. Akira shut the lighter, tucking it back into his pocket. Akira placed his letter back in his pocket as he prepared to leap over the small stone wall. 

A hand grabbed his wrist and tugged him backward, sending both him and his assailant away from the rather odd entry to the wide chamber. Akira felt his ambusher's hand clamp over his mouth, muffling his shocked gasp. A voice came from over his shoulder. Gloved hands pulled him out of the braziers' light and behind a corner. 

"Don't move." An oddly familiar voice hissed, pulling Akira close to their chest to keep him out of the light. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly, i love hifumi so much  
> i romanced her in my first playthrough and she gave me such good vibes.


	6. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira finds himself navigating a tunnel system with a familiar face.  
> Ryuji loses someone close to him.

Akira looked over his shoulder at the person currently holding him hostage behind a corner. From out of the corner of his eye, he could see a black scarf and hood, but not much else. He struggled against his captor's hands, but they seemed to be rather strong for someone so lithe. They growled at him, giving him a quick shake. 

"Can you stop? I'm trying to _help_." They hissed, looking him in the eyes. They were a fascinating shade of dark red, shimmering like rubies.

Akira tried to say: "If you're helping me, why don't you let go?", but it came out more like muffled gibberish. 

"Be quiet!" His captor suddenly tensed up, pressing both of them away from the light. Two robed figures walked out into the hall, mumbling. 

"Has the High Priest approved of operations commencing?" One asked, the firelight glinting on something sharp in their hand. 

The other shook their head. "No. We're still on number twelve, we need two or three more-" 

Their cohort held up a hand, drawing an ornate dagger from their robe. They slowly approached the corner Akira and his assailant were hiding behind, their arm tensing in preparation. The light reflected off the dagger and into the darkness where they were hiding, menacingly growing bigger as the robed figure drew closer. They paused, so close that Akira could hear their breathing. 

"Tell the High Priest we have suspected intruders. We should shift to phase three as soon as possible." They barked, their dagger glimmering like a sharp talon.

They stayed there, hanging over them for a moment until they turned on their heel and stalked away. Akira exhaled, then elbowed the cloaked stranger behind him. They grunted, letting their grip on him loosen. Akira staggered away from them, watching as they stepped into the light. 

"Oh, it's you. I knew I would see you around." Akira said, smirking. Crow rubbed their ribcage, adjusting their scarf around their face. 

"You have a knack for getting yourself into trouble." They growled, their ruby eyes glinting like embers. Akira frowned.

"I guess you're right." He said, drooping slightly. Crow's cloak billowed around them as they turned on their heel to stride deeper into the tunnels. They paused in the entryway. 

"Are you coming?" They demanded, nodding to the dark tunnel. Akira swallowed his pride and stepped behind them. Both of them peered down the tunnel and felt the tunnel looked back. A shiver went up Akira's spine. 

Crow kicked a stone down the tunnel, listening intently as it rolled down quickly, increasing speed as it did so. They hummed disapprovingly, then grabbed Akira by the waist. 

"What are you-" Akira said, then felt himself drop, air rushing past his face. Crow slid down the tunnel, one hand trailing the wall, the other around Akira's waist. As they skidded to a halt, Akira brushed himself off, then turned around.

"Can you warn me the next time you do that?" He scolded them, narrowing his eyes. Crow scoffed. 

"Hopefully, I won't have to hold onto you like some princess the next time we do." 

They brushed past him, lazily beckoning Akira forward. The tunnels were full of stale air, the heat pooling at the top of the low-hanging ceilings. They walked in silence, looking for the exit. Akira studied the way Crow looked ahead, never once sparing a glance for him. He could have sworn that he knew Crow from somewhere, he just wasn't sure where. 

"You look familiar." He stated, peering closer to his reluctant companion. Crow pulled their scarf closer to their face. 

"I'm not. We've never met before." Crow lied, like a lying liar who lies. Akira scoffed.

"Yes, we have. A few nights ago, you saved me in the woods. You literally recognized me a few minutes ago." He teased, darting behind them to take a closer look at their face. Crow stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding Akira's deft fingers trying to steal his hood. 

"Fine, we've met _once_ before. Other than that, I have never seen you before in my life." Crow groaned, an eye twitching behind their cowl. 

They walked in blissful silence for a record of two minutes before Akira opened his mouth. 

"What are your pronouns?" He chimed, all too cheerful for someone trying to avoid being stabbed by robed people with shiny daggers. 

"He/Him. Are you quite done yet?" Crow seethed, peering around a corner before motioning for Akira to follow. Akira simply walked past him, ignoring the sounds of scuttling and slithering. He shrugged, then pulled out his lighter when faced with a large, dark, expanse of empty space. 

"Wow. Where exactly are we?" He asked, turning to Crow. 

"Underneath the Academy's library. You shouldn't be here, so please, make it easy for me to escort you out." He sighed, pinching the exposed bridge of his nose. Akira rolled his eyes.

"You're kind of a prick, you know?" He said, eyeing the masked boy. Crow gave him an incredulous look. At least, he thought he did. It's rather hard to decipher someone's facial expressions when their face is obscured by thick, black cotton. 

"Excuse me?" Crow was taken aback. Akira's mouth twitched in a brief sneer. 

"What? I'm just telling you the truth, and the truth is that you're a dick." He said, nonchalantly, examining his nails under the glow of his lighter. 

Crow stopped in the shadows, crossing his arms. They sized each other up, both waiting to see what the other would do. Akira watched Crow's wrist twitch as if aching to punch something. 

"I just saved your ass from being skewered by some nutjob in a Halloween costume." He seethed. Akira laughed. 

"Look at yourself." He retorted, gesturing to the black garb Crow was wearing. Crow flinched, then growled in frustration. 

"That is _it_. You are so insufferable!" He yelled, jabbing Akira's arm. 

Akira's jaw dropped. "You just punched me!" 

His arm was punched. Again. 

"You did it again!" 

Akira flicked the lighter closed, then blindly swept his hand across the darkness in front of him, hoping to hit Crow in retaliation. His fist met with something that felt rather sharp. Crow grunted in pain, then muttered something about his cheek. He felt something swoop past his ear, then a hand grabbed the front of his shirt. Akira scowled in the darkness, clawing at what he assumed was Crow's torso. His hands met nothing. A voice came from over his shoulder, warm fabric grazing over the shell of his ear. 

"Got you," Crow whispered. Akira's eyes shot open in shock, realizing Crow had his arms wrapped around his chest. A leg shot between his, knocking Akira to the floor. Crow's hand slipped into Akira's back pocket, fishing around for something, just before he hit the ground. 

A flame ignited in the darkness, highlighting Crow's face. His hood had slipped slightly, showing messy, long hair. Akira sneered at him, feeling gravel roll underneath him. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching as Crow fiddled with the lighter, flicking it between his fingers as if the heat of the flame meant nothing to him. 

"Give that back," Akira growled, getting to his feet. Crow looked at the thing, spinning it around his index finger. 

"Make me." He taunted, words barbed like thorns. 

Crow would soon regret his words, because Akira tackled his knees, bringing him to the floor with a harsh tug. He grunted, flicking the lighter closed before it set fire to his scarf. Akira knelt over him, patting around in the darkness for his lighter.

His hands met warm skin, and a flash of light seared its way through his corneas.

_There was a door, red liquid coursing over it, the stone pulsing over it like veins. It seemed to call out to Akira, pulling him closer to it. The blood cascaded in sheets down the granite, pooling in a large crack in the gateway. Akira wanted to touch it, it was magnetic. There was something behind it that knew Akira better than anyone ever could. Better than he knew himself._

_For a moment, Akira thought that he was on the other side of the door. A version of himself that wasn't quite right. The smell of salt, blood, and brimstone wafted through the space, making the blood bubble like waves crashing on a shore._

He panted, gazing down at Crow. They stared at each other, Akira's hand still on his exposed abdomen. Crow looked at him in disbelief. 

"Are you serious?" He asked, incredulous. Akira made unintelligible noises, now able to see his surroundings. 

"It's not my fault you left your shirt unbuttoned for, like, half of its buttons," Akira said, dumbly. The boy beneath him raised an eyebrow. Crow picked up his wrist and dropped it like a hot stone onto the floor. He gestured to Akira's legs caging his hips to the floor. 

"You can move, now." He said, tossing the lighter back to Akira. He spluttered, clambering inelegantly off of Crow. 

He exhaled shakily, looking around at the suddenly well-lit caverns. Torches had sparked to life, their flames licking at the walls. There was an echo of life in the tunnel, the walls humming with energy. Akira didn't know how he knew they were crackling with vitality, he just knew. Something about these cave systems was resounding to a home he never had. 

"Hiraeth." He murmured, laughing humorlessly. Crow raised an eyebrow. 

"'Homesickness for a home that never was'. How pretentious of you to rattle off obscure words that you found in the dictionary. Although, I'm impressed that you own one. You seem like the kind to pay off the Dean to enroll." He said, disdainfully brushing himself off. Akira flipped him off. 

They lingered in the slightly wider part of the cavern, then Crow marched past Akira, heading towards the source of fresh air that brushed against their hair. The breeze pulled Akira to follow Crow, watching as he led them to the exit. Akira watched as the shelf rolled out of the way, the evening light trickling through the library windows. He glanced back at his reluctant companion, then gestured for him to go first. Crow scoffed.

"Oh, no. This is for you. The next time you're in trouble, no one will save you. Keep out of here." He lectured, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

"You know, for a super-secret, stealthy little prick, you sure talk a lot." Akira mused, watching as he puffed up like an angry bird. 

"What? _You_ literally never stop talking!" Crow yelled, obviously losing patience. Akira stuck out his tongue. 

Crow huffed out a laugh, then ran his hand over his hood. "Real mature. This is why you wanted to be called 'Joker', right? Because you think you're funny? You're not. Get out before I feed you to a pack of rabid virikas."

He waved a hand dismissively at the unruly-haired boy, no longer gracing him with a facial expression sour enough to curdle milk. Akira placed his hands on his hips, this close to giving Crow another punch to the face, but he took the high road. He would be forever known as Akira the Merciful. And probably a lot of other, less _pleasant_ things, but he was going with Akira the Merciful. He stepped into the light of the library. 

"Thanks." He muttered, hoping Crow didn't hear him. Their eyes met as the shelf closed on the cloaked boy. 

Akira trudged back to his dorm room, sore from the harsh gravel raking against his _terribly_ delicate skin. He could feel bruises swimming under his shirt, waiting to bloom in unsightly shades of burgundy, indigo, and moss-green. He opened the door to Ryuji, laying on his back, listening to very loud music. His record player was in the corner, spinning slowly. Ryuji was staring up at the ceiling, engrossed in his thoughts. Akira closed the door behind him and sat next to the blonde on the bed. 

"What's eating you?" He asked after a while, almost drowned out by the rock music. Ryuji sighed deeply. 

"A friend of mine, his name's Mishima, went missing." He rasped, fiddling with the iron rings on his fingers. Akira patted his shoulder in sympathy. 

"I'm so sorry. How long has he been gone for?" 

Ryuji threw his hands up, exhaling sharply. "Who knows? Two days tops." 

Akira hissed through his teeth. "I'm sorry, Ryuji. I hope he's ok. Do they think it was due to, uh, _Other_ involvement?" 

Ryuji shrugged. "They're not telling anyone anything. It's fuckin' bullshit!" 

He sat up, punching the wall. He slammed his hand against the wall again, and again until his fingers started leaving red marks on the white plaster. 

"Hey, Ryuji, hey, calm down-"

Ryuji whipped around to face him, a speck of blood streaking his jaw. "'Calm down'? You want me to ' _calm down_ '?" He roared, clenching his bloodied fists. He went to punch the wall again, but Akira caught him by the elbow. 

"You're hurting yourself, Ryuji. You have to stop." He explained calmly, then pulled Ryuji away from the wall. The blonde started to sob, shaking his head and muttering apologies over and over until it was just mindless chatter. 

Akira pulled him into a tight hug, patting his back, and hushing him softly. He watched as the sun set idyllically over the meadow, wondering if the missing student was still alive. The forest was silent, staring back at him with eyes of vines and leaves. Nothing was content, but everything was calm. Soon, the eye of the storm would pass over the Academy. Akira didn't know how he knew that, but it felt truthful. The anticipation chilled the marrow in his bones, froze the blood in his veins, and cooled the breath in his lungs. Soon, something was going to happen. 

Ryuji pulled away from him, wiping his face with his sleeves. He murmured something about an apology and left the dorm. Akira sat by himself, wanting the silence to stop. He opened the window, leaning out and running a hand through his hair. Recalling all of the wild events of that day, he wondered whether or not he was on one, long drug trip. Unlikely, but a comforting thought. 

Who exactly _was_ Crow? He didn't seem like an outsider. It looked like he knew his way around the school, but also the woods. God, Akira hoped he wasn't getting roped into an elaborate Other prank. He thought back to the letter, and how its sender seemed so similar to himself. Akira decided that he liked the anonymous sender of the letter.

And Hifumi. Beautiful, sad, delicate Hifumi. She was so perfect it was almost too good to be true. But she was true. She was earnest, kind, and sweet. He should have invited her to Tokyo for dinner or something. He sighed. Akira was tired. He hadn't had a decent rest in hours, and he hadn't even had a cup of coffee in weeks. He wondered if Ann knew any places close to the Academy. 

He left the dorm room, on a hunt for a shot of caffeine directly into his bloodstream. Akira didn't actually know where Ann's dorm room was. He passed by corridors of more dormitories, ignoring the hushed whispers until he realized they were about him. 

“Hey, isn’t that the new transfer student?” One girl said, hiding behind her hand as if Akira couldn't hear her.

“Yeah, it is. Looks kinda pretty, don’t you think?” Her friend replied, openly staring at him. 

Akira felt a creeping sense of pride climb up his neck. He did pride himself on his attractiveness. 

“Don’t. He’s here on an Archfey’s request. He’ll eat your heart, you know.”

How rude. Akira didn’t think of himself as a heartbreaker. 

“Oh, come on, my heart’s not that breakable-“

“I’m talking literally, Ayane. He will literally eat it.” 

_Oh_. That was certainly new. 

“Oh my God, what are you doing outside then? Get inside! You don’t want to end up like Eiko.”

Eiko? Were more students going missing? So far, he had only heard of Mishima and some girl called Eiko. God, this was making his head hurt. All he wanted was some coffee. He gave them a stern look, sending them scurrying out of his way.

Akira rounded a corner, then was hit with the smell of something so perfectly delectable it made his mouth water. Someone was brewing the _exact_ blend he wanted. Thank fucking God. He followed the scent to the small dining room next to the Common Room. A man was leaning against a bar, engrossed in a crossword puzzle. Akira came closer, admiring the olive green coffee machine. He looked up, then retied his apron. 

"Evening. Can I help you?" He said, looking slightly bored. Akira nodded. 

"Yeah, I'm looking to get some coffee?" Akira said hopefully. The man nodded, stroking his beard. 

"Well, you'd better tell me quickly, I'm closing up in about fifteen minutes." He replied, gesturing to the jars of beans behind him. 

Akira swallowed. "Whatever you recommend." 

Akira blessed the man and the cup of absolutely heavenly coffee. He was Akira's saint. 

"What's your name, kid?" He said, wiping down the bar. 

"Akira Kurusu. Pleasure to meet you." He said, holding out a hand to shake. 

He shook it. "I'm Sakura. I'm your dorm's Quartermaster. Just call me Boss." 

A voice chimed out from behind him. "Ah, good evening. I wasn't aware I wasn't your only nighttime customer!" 

Haru sat next to him at the bar, the smell of lavender and sage flooding his nose. She smiled, then accepted the cup Boss had slid across the bar for her. Taking a sip, she closed her eyes, then sighed, bring the cup away from her face. Her tongue swept over her top lip, wiping away the foam. 

"Akira, no? I just wanted to apologize for the other day." She said balefully, tucking her fluffy hair behind her ear. Akira shook his head.

"It's fine. I'm sure it's not a death omen, so we're fine." 

Haru laughed, a pretty sound. She delicately took another sip. "Alright then. Thank you." She said, her eyes sparkling with life. 

They sat in amicable silence, enjoying their coffee. Boss seemed to trust Haru enough to let her lock up for him, leaving the small dining hall empty. Akira cleared his throat, then stood up, going to wash the cups. Haru shook her head, then clicked her fingers. The cups flew into a very nicely hidden dishwasher, then the door to the dishwasher shut. The machine started up, humming quietly. 

Akira turned to Haru. "I've never seen you in the self-defense classes. Do you not need them?" 

Haru shook her head. "I take separate classes. My father pays for them. He's the current holder of the Okumura fortune, and he invests in politicians who seem promising. I take firearms practice with a private tutor. Iwai is very good to us. He's been serving my father since they were young, and now it's my turn." 

A twinge of bitterness clouded her sweet countenance, and at the mention of her father, she seemed to bristle. She folded her hands in her lap, then coughed once, her shoulders shaking slightly. 

"I am not on good terms with my father, right now. He believes that my witchcraft will place a target on my back, and that is not what the company needs right now," She looked up at Akira, "However, I believe I may be able to use it to my advantage. Would you mind accompanying me to my room tomorrow? I have some findings you might think are interesting." 

Akira watched as Haru escorted him out, then locked the door behind them. She smiled. 

"Good night, Akira. I hope to see you tomorrow." She said. Akira smiled.

"I won't disappoint. Good night." 

They parted ways, but Akira couldn't help but wonder what Haru knew about him that he didn't. 


	7. Part Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A girl seeks the audience of the newly dead, looking for clues.  
> Another girl questions her loyalty.  
> Both collide.

A girl sat in her room, her cushions and blankets spread in a nest filled with colors like a box filled with candy. Violet light poured from her windows, dousing her room like spilled wine. Her numerous lamps were dim and unlit, the only other light source was on the floor in front of her. A smattering of small, wax candles placed around the object of her focus: A spirit board. Her fingers were on the planchette, letting the wooden triangle sail smoothly across the board. So far, it hadn’t answered anything coherently, leaving the girl to take desperate measures. She bit her thumb hard enough to break through the skin, dripping it in each candle and finally sealing the board with a lock sigil. She let the spirit manifest, leeching off of the blood she let it take. It wavered like a reflection on water, pale and dismal. The girl spoke:

“Hello. Can you answer a few questions?” 

The spirit looked around and nodded. The witch spoke again, her brow furrowed in concentration. If she let go now, the spirit would be extinguished, death for the dead. 

“What is your name?”

The spirit pointed at the letters “E”, “I”, “K” and “O’. The witch noted it down in a small notebook. She moved on.

“How did you die?”

Eiko went to the board again, spelling “Murder.” The witch’s eyes unfocused, bright and lavender. She blinked, then wrote the word down in her book. 

“Who killed you?” 

The spirit went into a frenzy, shaking the board as she pointed at too many letters at once. The girl tried to calm her down, feeling the screams that the ghost wrenched from the back of her cold, dead throat reverberate in her skull. Eiko kept pointing at letters, the witch trying to get down as many as she could. Eiko kept screaming, staring deeply into the witch’s violet eyes, trying to mouth out who killed her. The only words that the girl picked up made her gasp. Eiko whipped her head around, watching as the doorknob rattled. The witch tried to keep the ghost under control, but the focus she had on her was slipping away. She started the chant to send her back to the Netherworld. 

The door was being slammed against the doorframe now, someone on the other side _really_ wanting to get in. The witch was losing control, but Eiko was so close to being safely put back into the Netherworld. The door rattled, its hinges groaning and almost giving in. The witch flung an arm out, her spectral reach holding the door back with an invisible weight pushed against the door. Eiko was fading now, screaming like a banshee. The girl was almost done, the gate almost closed. She was so close to succeeding she could taste it. Eiko was almost safe and she could ask her back when she had the strength to do so. 

“Stop screaming.” She yelled at Eiko. The spectral grip she had on the door was shattered, the door banging open. The witch lost her focus, forcing her grip on the gate to fall away like pennies into a well.

A figure kicked the door open, blowing out her candles with a gush of wind. The girl sat in her room, alert and scared as the figure stormed in. She had a voice that sounded rather authoritative and commanded power. “Where was the screaming coming from? Are you alright?” 

The figure was a girl her age, with dark crimson eyes and choppy, short hair. She gave the witch a hand up, checking her over for any cuts or bruises. The girl with violet eyes knew that if she cooperated, she wouldn’t get in trouble. But she’d been playing along for too long and trouble had to catch up to her sooner or later. She stared defiantly into the eyes of her self-proclaimed “savior”, coldly removing her hand from her arm. 

“I am fine. You just kicked open my door.” She stated icily. The taller girl blinked but persisted. 

“What’s your name? I’m Nijiima Makoto.” Nijiima smiled. The witch walked over to her door, testing the hinges. There were a few dents where Nijiima’s boots had kicked the door. Taking her time, she turned to the girl, looking her up and down. 

“Okumura Haru. You do realize you’ve broken my door, don’t you?” Said the witch, watching as one of the hinges fell off. Nijiima winced as it clattered to the floor, bowing her head like a scolded child. Haru used the remaining bits of her energy to fix the hinge, making it as showy as possible, purely to spook the breaker of her door. 

The dark-haired girl watched in awe as the hinge levitated in the control of Haru’s outstretched hand, pressing itself back into the wood again. Her kindness was replaced with fear, and that fear turned into anger. Most things that humans can’t explain make them afraid, and rather than show humility, they become angry and bitter, tearing what frightens them apart instead of learning about it. Haru sighed in disappointment as Nijiima grabbed the nearest sharp object, which happened to be a knife from the knife-block on her kitchen counter. The brunette brandished it in front of her, snarling like an animal. Haru stretched her energy thinner, freezing Nijiima in her tracks with a paralysis spell. 

“Now, now, don’t get too hasty,” Haru smiled, sharply and sweetly, walking closer to the frozen girl. “You interrupted something very important to me, so now you’re going to apologize and answer a few questions.” 

Makoto had never encountered a witch before, so she didn’t know the signs. Looking back in hindsight, she should have been more careful, more observant. The candles, the smell of sage and lavender, and the spirit board were all telling signs. She couldn’t move, and now the witch was going to kill her. Slaughtered like how the Others butchered her family when their worlds collided. She was only ten at the time, but she remembered everything so vividly. 

They had come in the night, tearing through the air like mad birds, swooping down on everything they deemed weak. They all gathered in the kitchen, her father protecting Makoto until he died, his neck ripped out by fairy fangs. The blood had sprayed across the windows, the sunrise filtered into red light as Makoto sat, drenched in her parent's blood, alone in the kitchen. Her sister was the only one who wasn't there. She had been attending her fancy boarding school in Tokyo and had been spared from the massacre. 

But Makoto had to focus. If she let her mind stray too far, she would go past the point of no return. She refocused her eyes and concentrated on what was in front of her. An ethereally beautiful girl, poisonous and intricate, bathed in light that made her seem almost like a mirage. Makoto would not die here. She screamed at her body to move, but she was _frozen_. The witch-girl took the knife from her hands, placing it back in the knife-block, and dragging a chair to sit in front of Makoto’s frozen body. 

“Why were you outside of my room?” She said, crossing her legs and resting her chin in her hand. Makoto found herself able to talk. Of course, she didn’t, she only glared. The witch-girl frowned but shrugged.

“If you won’t talk now, I have plenty of time, so take as long as you like.” Her lavender eyes peered up at Makoto, haloed by her light brown eyelashes. She held stoic eye contact with Makoto, a chill running down her spine. She could gamble and try to lie to the witch, buying her enough time for the spell to wear off. It was worth a shot. 

“I heard screaming. I thought someone might have been injured,” She gave the witch a dirty look. “Or worse.”

The witch-girl smiled again, her eyes cold and bright. “But you didn’t. Only _I_ can hear the screams of the ghosts I personally summon. _You_ picked up on me asking the spirit to stop.” 

Makoto felt her heart drop in her chest, caught red-handed. She was in deep water now, one misstep and she could drown. The witch-girl snapped her fingers, the spell on Makoto’s body dissipating like smoke from a fired gun. Collapsing in a heap, Makoto released a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. The witch-girl took her face in her hand firmly, forcing Makoto to look into those amaranthine eyes of hers. She smelled like jasmine and rose, sweet and lovely. 

“Who sent you to lurk outside my room?” She asked, drawing Makoto up by her chin. Makoto hissed at her, clawing at the legs of the chair to gain her balance. She stared back at the witch-girl and breathed a heavy sigh. 

It was her duty as a prefect to keep the student body safe. She had already fucked up with the new student. He wasn't right. He blurred at the edges like a soggy photograph and moved far too quickly to be human. Makoto gritted her teeth, banishing the humiliation of being downed by some idiotic _child_. The purple light was like floating in a sea of softly changing colors, embraced in the scent of lavender, sage and that intoxicating perfume that girl wore. Jasmine and rose.

Then something changed in her. It was like a dying match lighting a candle, a sudden flare of _want_. If she could just get a taste, the _tiniest_ morsel, she would be satisfied. She leaned in, her hands climbing up the chair’s legs, inhaling the scent of that damned jasmine and rose. Oh, she would do anything for just a quick bite. She would tell her anything, she would do anything, she would die for just _one_ drop. She would spill her guts and let the witch salt the wound if it meant she could drink it from her lips, savor it in her mouth. 

Makoto couldn’t bear it anymore, she surged up to taste it, only to be stopped by a wagging finger. “Who sent you?”

Makoto didn’t even hesitate. She told her everything. How the Dean was sending her on wild goose chases, flitting between his office and a cupboard in the back, always with a bag over his shoulder. When she was done, she could barely contain herself, practically vaulting onto the girl's elegantly crossed legs. She got her taste and still hungered for more, breaching only for breath and to inhale into the witch’s neck, devouring her scent like a wolf devoured a doe. No matter how much she got, she was still starving, ravenous for more.

The girl was gentle, almost made like a human. She was soft and warm, not cold and sharp like the Fey that bit and scratched. Makoto withdrew, realizing how human this girl was. She stared back, her violet gaze taciturn and tranquil. She was almost doll-like, ethereal, and fragile. If Makoto kissed her hard again, the girl might break into tiny, glimmering pieces, so the prefect gently met her lips with something far more delicate and tender. 

The scent of jasmine and roses was gone. Makoto blinked, the enthrallment with devouring this gossamer girl gone, replaced with wonder and quiet examination. The girl looked melancholy as if there was guilt eating away at her gilded edges. She didn’t make eye contact, closing her eyes.

Makoto sat back, the lavender cast of the sunlight flooding through the windows bathing them in muted amethyst. She brushed the tips of her fingers against the girl’s cheek, checking if she was real. She almost felt too pure, too unfiltered to be real but it only made her more human. Her face was so close to perfect, but her skin wasn’t marble. She had a small scar on her temple, a few blemishes adorned her cheeks like stars and her eyes weren’t symmetrical. Makoto found her stunning, so terribly exquisite she wondered if someone so beautiful could be so vile. 

The candle still burned, a steady, growing flame. As her eyes flicked over the bow-shaped curve of the girl's lips, Makoto felt a quiet, tender longing to stay as still as possible, as if silence might break her.

Haru didn’t realize that her perfume would have that much of an effect on Nijiima. It usually loosened tongues like wine, not drive them mad with lust and want. She was in shock at how the girl had told her everything in exchange for a kiss. She had a motive that wasn’t entirely despicable. It made Haru think about what drove her to such fervent hunger for what her murmurings told her was the “scent” and the “taste” of Haru’s perfume. But now, looking up at her, this girl wasn’t driven by her desire, only by her want to examine.

The girl touched her face like she wanted to learn, to understand. It was the first time something like that had happened, so Haru had no past experiences to look back on. The only thing she needed from Nijiima had been fulfilled, but she had gone and deepened her need for closure, to make sure whatever the fragrance had brought on was real. It felt tangible, visceral enough to feel aching behind her ribs. She bled for every second they spent questioning their loyalties. 

She knew how Nijiima was associated with the Principal and how that despicable man was somehow connected with the disappearance and murder of Eiko. She knew that this girl could turn her in. And yet every moment they weren’t touching felt wrong. She had never felt this strong an ache before. Haru wondered if the perfume had been hexed or jinxed. She didn’t care. 

She let the girl on her lap kiss her again. And again. And again. She left herself go, forgetting who she was, where she was, and what she was. At that moment, she was just a girl, and Nijiima was just a girl who wanted her and only her. 

It felt divine to be wanted, to be cherished, and treated so well by someone who made her feel genuinely beautiful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LETS GO LESBIANS LETS GO


	8. Part Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira visits Haru for some very intriguing information.  
> He gets a lot more than he bargained for, in return.

Akira walked out of his English Literature class with a sore hand from writing his notes. The class was full of bright students who all had something to say about the new student who was rumored to be a Fey in disguise. Akira was flattered, really. The Fey were beautiful and cruel, like an ornamental knife. But he had Ann and Ryuji in his Lit. class, so it wasn’t completely unbearable. He sat behind Ann, watching her doodle and then snap to attention to deliver an insight on the topic at hand. She was rather impressive. Akira felt more catered to in the style of the classes, not left behind with stale judgment regurgitated from textbooks. This was fresher, more real. He loved it. 

As he turned the corner, Ryuji laughing at a joke Ann made, Yusuke and Hifumi were standing by a window. Yusuke looked up, his face lighting up as Ryuji sauntered over, slinging an arm over his boyfriend’s shoulders. The girl standing next to him met Akira’s eyes and surprise flickered over her face. She smiled.

“Oh, Akira, it's you!” 

Akira blushed, then returned the smile. "Hey. Sorry about last time, I-"

She waved him off, shaking her head. "Don't worry about it." 

Ann looked between the two, eyes wide and cheerful. She held her hands out as if to shrug but stayed still, stuck in her confusion.

"How did you two meet?” She said, still smiling widely. Hifumi giggled, then explained the unfortunate incident of how they met to the blonde. When she talked, her face animated and shone, making it seem like every word that fell from her lips was a line in a fairy tale or a ballad. She captured her listeners with twinkling looks from her forest-green eyes, enthralled them with her sweet words, and satisfied them with her intricately crafted stories. Hifumi had something special in the way she spoke. She was mesmerizing, Akira couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She met his gaze and beamed even brighter, finishing up the story. Ann gave Akira a look, then spoke

“Akira, you seriously didn’t think to walk backward?” She said. Akira shrugged. Ann patted his arm, sighing. “At least you’re pretty.” 

Hifumi laughed, a slender hand coming to her face to brush her hair back. She turned to Yusuke.

“Should we bring the others along to the studio?” She asked, hopeful. Yusuke gave a “subtle” glance to Ryuji then nodded, bending down to sweep up his satchel of painting supplies and his canvases. Ann huffed out a laugh.

“You’re still calling it a studio?” She brushed her long hair over her shoulder. 

The “studio” was Yusuke’s usually large and empty dorm, with only one bed. It was not extravagant like Haru’s and it wasn’t as messy as Akira and Ryuji’s. He only had the bare minimum. There were no luxuries, only an easel and a box overflowing with tubes of paint. A few canvases were stacked against the wall, paint scattered around them like fallen shards of the colorful trees outside of his window. The petals had collected on the windowsill, lining the window with yellows and pinks. He set the satchel down and carefully left the canvases leaning against the wall. Hifumi entered with ease, comfortable in her friend’s space. Yusuke motioned for her to perch on a stool in front of the window, the window framing her like a halo. Akira felt his gaze linger on her intricacy, soaking in her light that outshone the summer morning. 

Ann nudged him playfully and his ears scorched with heat. He looked back at the way the window framed her and he saw the boy from the library, his cadmium eyes haunting and piercing, back when he was nothing but feathers and a page turning in the sunlight. He blinked and he was gone, Hifumi blushing under his intense gaze. She smiled.

Yusuke brought the easel in front of his model, letting Ryuji rest his head on his shoulder. The painting was half-finished already, a symphony of soft lines and muted colors, all a medium in capturing the underlying sense of mystery in Hifumi’s enigmatic smile. Yusuke had really outdone himself, and it wasn’t even finished. Ann sat on the bed, patting the space beside her for Akira to sit down. He crossed one leg over the other and leaned back on his arms as Ann whispered in his ear.

“Hifumi is, like, Yusuke’s second favorite muse, Ryuji being his first,” She giggled quietly, “He often sketches Ryuji after he’s done playing rugby or finished his fencing.” Akira hummed quietly.

“Ryuji fences?” He asked, looking at the lean boy draped over his boyfriend. Ann nodded, twirling her hair around her index finger like spun gold. 

“Yeah, he’s really good. He does it at a professional level, you know,” Her heart-shaped mouth frowned as she continued, “He only does rugby for fun. He had a nasty accident involving shattering his kneecap.” 

Ryuji hummed quietly as he opened a drawer and pulled out an old record player and some vinyls, flipping through them. He settled on an obscure band that Akira had never even heard of. He settled back down next to Ann as the record started playing, flopping back onto the bed. He folded his arms behind his head, waggling his eyebrows.

“Whatcha talking about?” He grinned, poking Ann. The natural blonde rolled her eyes and laughed messing up Ryuji’s hair even more. He failed wildly, attempting to free himself from the endless ruffling. Hifumi laughed, shaking with mirth. Yusuke tapped the easel with the wooden part of his paintbrush in disapproval. 

“Stop making Hifumi move. I can’t paint her if she is in motion.” He frowned, then flicked his brush in their general direction for good measure. Ann squeaked a few drops of pink fell onto her face. 

“Hey! Watch it, this shirt was expensive!” She said, unbuttoning it to leave her black tank top. She flung the shirt to the side, hitting Akira in the face. The wild-haired boy laughed, pulling the fabric from his face and tossing it behind him. Ryuji roared with laughter as Ann got more flicks of paint to the face, only to be splattered with saffron-colored pigment himself. Hifumi was bent over, hysterical as her friends shrieked from the cold paint hitting their skin in the hot summer air. She locked eyes with Akira as a gust of wind blew through the window, petals pushing through and dancing around the girl on the wooden chair like fireflies. Akira felt his cheeks heat up and mentally, he hit himself. 

A quick splash of paint woke him up. Red splattered across his cheek and nose, stark and bright. Ann gasped, then picked up a spare paintbrush and flicked some of the paint at Yusuke.

“Look what you’ve done! Now it looks like _Carrie_ happened in your room.” She laughed as Yusuke was hit by a quick splattering of dark blue.

The artist scoffed, elegantly flicking his wrist and covering Ann’s leg and the cuffs of her shorts in rose. Ryuji swooped around Yusuke, clinging to him, and smearing the not yet dry yellow paint on his lover’s cheek. Akira laughed, smearing some of the dripping scarlet paint off of his cheekbone, and flicked it towards Hifumi. The brunette gasped, mock-offended. She touched her cheek where the red had landed and hopped off of the stool, grabbing a brush and flicking it at him. The dark forest green hit him square in the forehead, dripping down his temples. 

“Right in hair, too,” He laughed, “That’s going to need some severe brushing.” 

Hifumi’s mouth formed a perfect ”o” as she cocked her head to the side.

“You own a hairbrush?” 

Ann let out a short “Ha!” and shot some more red at Akira. He coughed, then stuck his tongue out.

"Ew, Ann! It got in my mouth!" He spat, the chalky taste of the paint making his nose wrinkle. She laughed, then immediately got a cold splatter of pink up her spine. Ryuji grinned, holding Yusuke in front of him like a human shield. Ann flipped him off and wiped the paint from the back of her vest. Akira sighed happily, then glanced at the clock. 

"Oh, shit, I totally forgot. I'll see you all later, I've got to meet with someone." He said, trying to wipe the paint off his face. 

Hifumi's smile faltered, but she brightened up when Akira looked back at her. Ann pouted.

"Hey, wait, what's up?" She asked, peeling the dry paint off of her fingers. Akira waved a hand dismissively, pulling on his shoes. 

"I've got to discuss the English assignment with someone. I'll see you later." He called, skidding down the corridor. 

Ryuji huffed out a sigh. "Huh. Wonder what's eatin' him."

Akira hurtled through the corridor, probably trailing paint behind him. He ignored the whispers, the rumors, and the mouths hidden behind hands. There wasn't anything he could do about it, so why waste time? People's biases never change, not really. Once proclaimed different, always perceived different, even if it was subtle. Akira flew up the steps, taking them two at a time. He wondered if Haru had to have a word with the Dean in order to get this tower all to herself. He was brought out of his thoughts by the potent smell of lavender and sage. Haru's door was open, the amethyst light spilling onto the stone like wine.

Haru was standing outside, watering a few plants in pots outside her room. He saw Akira, then set her watering can down. 

"Akira! I'm so glad you made it, do you want to come inside?" She asked, wiping her hands on her apron. 

Akira smiled awkwardly. "I'm so sorry I'm late." 

She waved his apology away, then untied her apron. "Would you like some tea? I've got lots of blends if you do." 

He nodded, then closed the door behind him. The hinges squeaked a little, but Akira thought nothing of it. The witch hummed as she set the kettle on her stove, flicking her fingers to light the hob. She swept various books, scrolls, and other arcane-looking paraphernalia off of her kitchen table. Akira took a seat, fiddling with his lighter as she busied herself around the kitchen, fetching tea bags and mugs. 

"Akira, if you pick up the book with the black leather cover, and turn to page seventy-two, you'll find a paragraph written in french. Would you mind reading it to me?" 

Akira blinked in shock, reaching toward the book. "How do you know I speak french?" 

Haru tapped the side of her nose. "Call it intuition." 

He opened the book to page seventy-two, then found the paragraph. It was hastily scrawled on a spare piece of paper, sewn into the spine sloppily. Akira peered at it, angling the book to catch the light differently, watching the ink shimmer like peacock feathers. Haru set a mug down in front of him, stirring milk into her own. Clearing his throat, Akira began to read.

"Mes recherches se sont avérées fructueuses. Nous avons maintenant l’information dont nous avons besoin pour ouvrir un portail dans R’lyeh, mais nous devons le faire sans que les faux dieux le découvrent. Le Grand Rêveur va bientôt se relever!" He paused, frowning. "Nous allons enfin semer le chaos que cette Terre mérite après que les faux dieux l’ont tourmentée avec leur fausse luminosité."

Haru smiled at him warmly. "You have a very nice reading voice. Would you mind giving me a brief translation?" 

Akira nodded. "The writer had some kind of research, and it seems to have been successful. There's something about opening a portal, but I'm not quite sure. It might be a metaphor." He scratched the back of his head, looking up at her warily. "They said something about false gods, and something called 'The Great Dreamer'. It's really rather unclear, though." 

Haru's face had paled, and she stared down at the book. Behind her, the kettle started screeching, even though she had just turned the hob off. She looked up at him, violet eyes wide. 

"Akira, would you mind translating a few more things for me?" She asked shakily, an uneasy smile forming on her face. 

He nodded but took the mug from her shaking hands as she stood up, bracing herself on the table. "Haru, it might be best if you sat down."

She nodded, then slumped back into her kitchen chair. Akira cleared his throat, patting her hand comfortingly. 

"Haru, this wouldn't be the first odd annotation you've found, would it?" She shook her head. Akira pressed on. "Would you happen to know anything about the arcane history of the school?" 

Haru placed the final tome on the large stack teetering on her small desk. Akira looked around him at her study, watching the small trinkets hang in the air, suspended on little, spinning circles. He ducked underneath a particularly sharp crystal headed for his eye socket. Haru had definitely made this space for people under six feet. 

Haru had a look of morbid determination on her face, her mouth set into a grim line. She had tied her fluffy hair back and was sorting through piles of old books, looking for the information she had promised Akira. 

"Ever since the Convergence, there has always been the underlying threat of old religions. The Fey did their best to quell those usurpers after they invaded, but it's rather hard to stop a rebellion that's lasted for centuries." She started, setting out tomes and scrolls Akira only thought existed in stories. "We don't know why the Fey chose that time to invade, but they did. We were severely underprepared, so we built the Academy. Serving as the last line of defense, we converted an old castle into a military school. Of course, that was a decade ago. We have an uneasy peace with the Others, but you know what." 

Akira nodded. Out in the country, the circumstances weren't so different, but the Fey were much stronger out there. Haru continued, her fingers tracing over spines of old grimoires in search of a specific title. 

"The Academy is now a prestigious school, but we still have a responsibility to train the city's next generation into stronger, more robust citizens."Haru stopped, picking up a book and flicking through the pages. Akira watched as she let it fall onto the table with a dull thud. She moved on. 

"When I say 'Old Ones', it usually means nothing to your average person. I, myself, have very limited knowledge of what they are. What I do know, is that whatever they were, they left the remains of a broken cult behind. Those cultists would just love to see the end of the world at the hands of their gods. They were particularly fussed about the Fey taking over before whatever they worshipped did." 

Akira hummed in thought. "But what did they worship?"

"I'm not quite sure. I do know they're from someplace called R'lyeh, and that they're referred to as Old Ones, but that's all I know." Haru said, pointing at more hastily scrawled notes in the margins of old books. They were all in french, with shimmering, iridescent ink. 

"Do you think that prophecy you gave me has something to do with all of it?" Akira said, leaning on the table. 

She shrugged, shaking her head sadly. "I'm not sure. I have very little knowledge of the prophecies I deliver." 

Akira sat back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "The Ninth... What did you mean by that?" 

Haru perked up. "Wait! I have an idea!" 

She flew over to a cabinet, rifling through the drawers. She sat back down at the table, shuffling a deck of cards. Haru's eyes glimmered with excitement, and she muttered Akira's name. 

"I'm giving you a tarot reading. The cards might reveal if the prophecy is related to you." She explained. The cards fanned out on the table, then three of them started glowing. In turn, they placed themselves in a separate space, the rest of the deck sliding into a neat pile. Haru snapped her fingers.

"Past, please." The card revealed itself. The Tower leered back at them, floating in the air. Haru winced. 

"Ah. There were many obstacles in your past, and eventually, they all collapsed onto you. But the destruction left a path for new beginnings!" She said. The next card turned around, showing its face. The Fool hovered in the air, mild in countenance. Haru frowned in disbelief. 

"Two major arcana? Goodness, that's rather odd. This is your present. The Fool represents the beginning of a new journey. Future, please." She said, her brow furrowed. The next card circled around, its face shocking to the witch. 

"Good grief, _three_ major arcana? A _lot_ is going on in your life, Akira." She winced, then examined the card. 

"Oh, that's nice. The Lovers means that there will be a new partnership in your life. Sadly, you'll have to sacrifice one choice for the other, letting something, or someone, go in order to get what you want." She said. "But this does mean that the prophecy was not exclusive to you. I wonder..." 

She trailed off, rifling through more drawers and busying herself around the study. Akira watched as she hurled herself around the room, causing mess wherever she went. He tried speaking to her but was not blessed with a reply. 

"Um, Haru?" She didn't appear to have heard him. He sighed. He could just come back later. 

"I'll see you around, Haru. Stay safe." He called, ascending the stairs. She grabbed him by the wrist, her eyes intense. 

"You still have one more question, no?" She asked, strangely correct. Akira should probably have stopped doubting her abilities depending on her intuition. She had a mind as sharp as a razor with eyes that could cut through diamonds like butter. He swallowed.

"Just one." He admitted. Haru nodded, letting go of him. 

"Go on. I'm listening."

He paused. "You wouldn't happen to know if the school has an unused basement, would you?"

Haru blinked owlishly. Then she laughed, chiming like the silver bells hanging in their places in the air. 

"You know, someone else asked me that same question. Do you want to know what I told him?" She said, smiling brightly. Akira nodded. "I told him to go check for himself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've found myself identifying akechi as "bitch" or "bastard" whenever i see him. the second he comes on screen, i very quietly say "motherfucker" and continue with the game.  
> it's become instinctual.


	9. Part Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira goes shopping with Ann in town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> teehee i'm not dead  
> sorry about the wait lmao
> 
> also!  
> CW: Parental Abuse is referenced in this chapter  
> take care :))

Hands glided over the glittering fabric, the sequins reflecting on to the walls. A soft sigh escaped her lips, marveling the iridescence of the dress. 

"Akira, what do you think?" Ann asked, turning around to get a look at the back of the dress. 

Akira popped his head through the black curtain of the dressing room. He examined the dress with scrutiny, then nodded slowly. 

"It's great. Red is definitely your color." He said sagely, stepping into the small room. 

Ann scoffed. "You flatterer." 

She batted him lightly on the arm, then tossed her hair over her shoulder. The dress was a bright scarlet, with shining, iridescent scales of sequins. It was a statement piece that only Ann would be able to pull off. She sighs happily, then does a little dance. 

"I love it! It's perfect." Ann giggled, smoothing her hands down the sides of the dress. 

Akira smiled, then left the changing room, casting a glance at the pile of clothes that Ann picked out for him. He grimaced at the gaudy pattern on one of the scarves. The blonde girl emerged behind him, dazzling in her dress. 

"Come on! Try on a few of these, they'd suit you so nicely." She said, picking up a dress shirt and pressing it against Akira's chest, comparing the size. 

Akira rubbed the back of his neck. "Are you sure? Didn't you want to hit up a few more stores?" 

"I see _exactly_ what you're doing, you sneaky little shit." She narrowed her eyes and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Go on, humor me." 

He eyed the blouse nervously, then took the silky fabric into his hands. At least it wasn't that hideous tartan on the scarf. 

"Alright, fine. Just show me which side is the front." Sighed Akira, smiling tiredly. Ann beamed, then pushed him behind the curtain. 

After a few minutes of rustling and confused huffing, Akira stepped out of the dressing room. The shirt was nothing like Akira had worn before but had wanted to since he was a teenager. The fabric was light and silky, clinging to him like it was soaked through. It had a sheen to it that followed the light when he moved, like water on stone. There was a slit in the back, just where his shoulder blades were, and the air was cold on his skin. 

Ann clapped her hands, then made him turn around for her. "Akira! You look great. You have to get this." 

Akira laughed, running his fingers through his hair. His parents would have killed him for this. There weren't here now, though, so Akira could rest easy knowing that he'd get through the night without a bloody face. He looked at himself in the mirror, and for a brief second, he could see himself at fifteen, wide-eyed at what he'd become. 

There was a satisfaction in knowing that he would have made his young self proud of him. Of what Akira could be. How he'd grow into his gangly limbs, shedding the inelegance of a newborn ostrich for the competence of a significantly more traveled ostrich. No one was perfect.

As his eyes scaled the bright wallpaper of the changing rooms, Akira thought back to the walls in his old house. Before it all went to shit, they were a pleasant cream color, with small floral details climbing up to the ceiling. Akira used to stare at the way they caught the light in the mornings. Silvery, like dragon scales, they looked like the satin of the black dress Ann emerged in. He snapped to attention. 

"Wow. I think you should get that one." He said, sitting down on the navy blue ottoman in the center of the room. 

Ann tugged lightly on the curtains of her cubicle, then chewed her lip. "Really? Are you sure?" 

Akira nodded. "Absolutely. It's great for your eyes." 

"You know, you're right. I'm going to get it." She confirmed, then vanished behind the curtain again. 

Akira was left to stare at the circle of mirror peeking out behind the drawn-back curtains of the empty cubicles. He could see himself from every angle, and part of it made him want to squeeze his eyes shut. But he couldn't draw his eyes away. Looking at one's reflection is hypnotizing, like the myth of Narcissus. Akira might not have wasted away as a child, but he watched the decay of his parents' minds from the front row. It, too, was hypnotizing. Enough to haunt his dreams as the green light poured from under the study door. Sometimes, he heard birdsong from inside, but it was never for very long. The birdcages started to pile up outside until he was brave enough to get rid of them. 

Ann stepped in front of him, back in her normal clothes. "Hey, you alright?" 

He nodded, getting to his feet. "Yeah. You ready to get going?" 

She beamed at him, then dragged him over to the cash register. As she talked, she drew out credit cards the color of diamonds from her purse. "Okay, so I wanted to check out this café in one of the back alleys. We have some time before the last trains are running, but you never know how they're feeling."

Akira gave her a confirmatory hum as she spoke, just to let her know he was listening. She swiped the card against the reader, then placed it back in her purse, where it gleamed like jewels in a dragon's hoard. Ann tucked the purse into the folds of her coat, then hoisted her bags up. Akira took a few of them. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked, heads turning to stare at her. Akira noticed how some were drawn to her, like small fish swarming to the lure of an angler, while others shrank back, making themselves small. Confused, Akira leaned in to whisper in her ear. 

"We have company." 

Ann laughed, chiming like a bell. "Don't worry about it. It's not a big deal." 

He shrugged. "If you say so." 

The second they left the store, Ann let out a shaky breath. "Thank you for being here today. I think you scared a few of them off." 

Akira laughed quietly. "Are you sure that's a good thing?" 

Ann nodded vigorously, adjusting her coat. "Absolutely. I can't usually go out by myself without being catcalled or harrassed nowadays. It wasn't like this before." 

She trailed off, staring at the rain drying on the cobblestones, her chunky heels making sharp noises against the floor. Akira waited for her to explain, placing a hand on her arm. She smiled, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

"After the Convergence, it turned out I had Fey ancestry. It suddenly started to activate, or whatever, when the Fey came over to this plane of existence. Usually, the bloodline is stronger, but mine goes really far back, I don't have any powers." 

Akira cocked his head to the side, leaning in a little closer as he lowered his voice. "Do you know anyone who does?" 

"I do," She confirmed, but she averted her eyes. "I mean, I _think_ I do. It's a little ambiguous because of all the rumors surrounding him." 

Akira leaned in closer, eating the gossip out of the palm of her hand. "Who is it?" 

"His name is Akechi Goro. He's in the year above us. His father is a super important politician in the Cabinet right now, as well as a benefactor for the Academy. The rumor I heard was that his mother was Fey. Or three-quarters, at least. Either way, his lineage is really concentrated." She examined her nails, her tone falling flat. "All the girls think he's hot shit." 

Akira raised his eyebrow teasingly. "And you don't?" 

"It takes an orange to expose the bad apple." She said, trying to sound as wise as possible, but the made-up proverb didn't quite stick. Her friend laughed, clutching his side as she continued to look unimpressed. 

"I've certainly never heard that one before," Akira said, wiping a tear from his eye. Ann frowned. 

"Shut up." She remarked. "You're just not appreciating my little nuggets of wisdom." 

He gave her a snarky look, his grey eyes shining with mischief. "Just say you're gay and move on." 

Ann lightly kicked him in the shin, her bags rustling. "Do you want to hear about him or what?" 

"Alright, alright. What else do you have on him?" He conceded, wincing as a small shot of pain leaped up his leg. Ann's kick was rather effective in scarlet go-go boots. 

She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and it glinted like golden syrup in the sun. "I heard a rumor that he spends a lot of time in the library. Niijima, that prefect in the year above us, has a class with him. I overheard her say that he's a stuck-up, prissy, know-it-all. A little harsh, from what I can tell, though. He just seems a bit lonely." 

Akira's brow furrowed. "The library, huh? Does he have long, shaggy, brown hair?" 

" _God_ , yeah, his mullet." Ann winced, staring into space with a pained look on her face. 

He snorted, but gave her a dismissive look. "It's not a mullet. I saw him in the library a while ago. It's kind of funny, actually, because I thought he was _haunting_ me or something. He's kind of cute." 

Ann's smile dropped like a stone into a lake. "No. No, no, no, _no_. You are _not_ allowed to do this right now, Akira. He's got crazy strong fey lineage, he's a bloody heartbreaker, and you are not allowed to call him _cute_!"

Akira's hands folded behind his head as he walked, and he gazed off into the distant street. The traffic buzzed like hummingbirds, lights flickering different colors in the blink of an eye. The more he tried to think about that boy's face, the more his surroundings melted, like shaved ice trickling through the cracks in the stone pavement. Suddenly, it rang true, and Akira remembered a small mole hiding underneath his eyebrow, the small scars on his hands as he flipped the pages of the book in the sunrise, silhouetted by the large window. 

A hand shot out in front of him, and a car whizzed past, the horn blaring like an alarm. Ann looked at him like he had grown a second head. 

"Are you serious? Akira, I can practically _hear_ your thoughts. Just don't. He's only going to hurt you, if he even acknowledges you in the first place." She chastised him, wagging a perfectly manicured finger in his face. "Now, come on. The café's just around the corner."

Ann sat him down, placing a laminated menu on the table in front of him like a mother, fussing over his elbows on the table. He shared this thought with her, much to her utter dismay. 

"God, don't say that. You make me sound old." She muttered, fluffing her hair over her shoulders. A boy behind them stared like he'd seen a girl for the first time. He ducked under his menu after Akira gave him a threatening glare. 

He crossed his arms and leaned further over the table, lowering his voice. "You attract a lot of attention. I don't know how you get used to something like that." 

"You just do. That's what my lineage does. I mean, I don't have powers or anything, I'm just, like, super hot." She drawled, struggling to keep her laughter at bay. Akira snickered, then sank back down in his chair, examining the paper in his hands. 

Ann twirled a strand of her hair around her finger as she hummed in deliberation, then looked up at him over the top of her menu. "So? What'll it be?" 

"Yikes, you really _do_ sound like my mom did." He exhaled shakily, struggling to disguise it as a laugh. 

Ann's menu flutters to the table, landing with a strangely gentle sound. "What was she like? If you don't mind me asking, that is." 

Akira swallowed. His mother wasn't dismissive or cold when they were in public. She was warm, and acted kindly, as if making it seem true would erase the fact that she whispered words like knives to him behind closed doors. His mother was pretty, with high cheekbones and sharp eyes, but her tongue was venomous. 

Akira said none of those things out loud. All he said to Ann was, "She was fine."

Ann gave him a look he'd seen a hundred times before and wasn't interested in seeing again. He propped the menu up so it covered Ann's pitying stare, and announced that he'd have a coffee. Her mouth closed, and she gave him a smile instead. It was much more palatable than the uneasy looks of those who weren't quite sure how to react to someone else's problems. Ann simply smiled and ordered a hot chocolate. 

It's a while before they speak again and their drinks arrive. Ann watched Akira run his tongue over his upper lip to rescue the foam stranded there, then set her mug down. 

"I guess it's kind of a touchy subject for you, but I know what it's like to have subpar parents." She blurted out, folding her hands over each other in an attempt to keep them still. "So, I'm sorry. And I'm glad you're still here." 

Akira paused, his mug hovering above the white, ceramic saucer. "Thanks. I'm glad you're still here, too." 

They didn't say much after that. The silence got too heavy to break or slice, and simply swallowed up any words that tried to swim through it. The café's lights flickered in the booth above them, and Akira watched the shadows turn on and then off, on and then off, and so on. Ann fixed her gaze on the cyan-checkered floor, the cold aluminum of the table biting into her palms like sharp teeth. 

The lights flickered again, and suddenly Akira was in the hallway of his childhood home, listening to the incomprehensible chatter of the television from far away. At the end of the hall was his parents' study, and Akira didn't have to wrack his brains to remember the last time he saw it. The doorframe pulsed with green light, beating like a poisoned heart. Shapes moved underneath the doorway, and his feet pulled him close enough to hear the muffled gibberish spouting from tired mouths. His hands were clammy as he shakily knelt down to look through the keyhole, and before his eyes could adjust, he was back in the café. 

The light flickered again, and Ann's face looked gray. "I don't think I like this café." 

Akira shook his head. "Neither do I." 

She flags down a waiter, and the check is served on a tiny, flashing disc. The credit card gleams like a ruby, the golden lettering shining underneath the stuttering lightbulb. It was the mindless, automated responses as they collected their things, paid for their drinks, and left the café. Akira released a breath he didn't know he was holding, and took one of Ann's bags. 

"Is there anything else you want to do?" He didn't look at her. 

She didn't look at him. "No, I think it's fine. Want to share a cab or take the train?" 

Akira stared out at the busy traffic, no longer the bright colors of a candy store, but a too-bright, toothache of a sight. He gave Ann a reassuring smile and nodded to the train station. 

"Let's go with the train."

The wind whistled through the trees like a melancholy bird that night, and no matter what Akira did, he couldn't coax himself to sleep. Of course, he did the only thing he deemed fit to do: Sneak around the library. 

His hands ran along the spines of the book, feeling the soft leather run like water underneath his fingertips. The shadows were long and sharp, the moonlight barely seeping through the clouds. Akira fumbled his way to the large window overlooking the forest, trying his best to stay as quiet as possible. 

Leaning against the railing, he almost didn't pick up the hushed whispers coming from the bookshelves. 

"Akechi, if I find you in here one more time, I'm going to report you to the Dean." Niijima's voice rasped, and a melodic laugh followed. 

Akira peered around the shelf, staying out of sight. A tall figure with coffee-colored hair stood with their back to him, a large book grasped in their hands. 

"Now, now, Makoto, let's not get too hasty. I'm sure the Dean has more important things on his hands, like that nasty masked person, no?" Their voice was hushed, but it had a sharp bite to it. Akira inched closer, darting around the corner of the bookshelf. 

Niijima sighed, looking up to the ceiling. "God help me. Just be quick, Akechi. I don't want you breaking curfew rules." 

She stalked away, her footsteps loud on the stone floor. Akira let out a small huff of laughter, then froze. The brown-haired stranger peered right at him in the gloom, their eyes glinting like rust. A slow, wry smirk spread across their face, and they beckoned Akira closer. 

"Some spy you are." They joked, and Akira stepped into the light. Akechi Goro stared back at him, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "It's almost like you weren't even trying. You're lucky the prefect didn't find you." 

Akira frowned. "I guess I'm a lucky person. I know you, don't I?" 

Akechi shrugged. "Do you?" 

He stepped forward, but Akechi had whirled around to the other side of the bookshelf, his fingertips playing along the tops of the books as he grinned defiantly at Akira from the other side. The dark-haired boy made a noise of confusion, then dashed around to the other side of the bookshelf. 

"Wait, I need to ask you something!" He called, only to turn around and see Akechi in the doorway. 

The boy raised a finger to his lips, the book tucked under his arm as he leaned against the doorframe. "Shh. This _is_ a library, you know." 

Akira blinked, and he was gone, the door swinging lightly on its hinges. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goro is a little shit and i love him for it.


	10. Part Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira delves deep into the tunnels.  
> Haru receives a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyyy i'm not dead lmfao  
> it's been a while, i know, and the more i look at past chapters, the more i see the wavering quality. i have given up to reworking other stuff so you'll just have to live with it. maybe after i've finished, then i'll fix it.  
> happy reading!!

Somehow, between classes and dusk, Akira found himself tracing the stone walls of the catacombs behind the library bookshelves. The heat outside was stifling, but the stale, lukewarm air in the caverns was no better. The cotton of his shirt stuck to his back as the floors rumbled faintly, as if heaving in rasping breaths. The stone was worn underneath his hands, the torchlight dim, and his mind racing. 

What on earth did the school need these catacombs for? 

Footsteps scurried around the corridors further away from him, and he pressed himself to the wall. Hushed murmurs echoed through the tunnels, but Akira was unable to make out what they were saying. Their robes hissed along the gravel, trailing behind their feet like the trains of evening gowns, only much less extravagant. They were dark blue in color, with gold trim on the more important-looking ones. Their hoods covered their faces, but Akira could see their mouths moving from his hiding place. 

They hurried away, and Akira relaxed. A numb, aching feeling throbbed in the back of his head, and he could taste blood. Visions of a tall, stone door flashed in his mind like unrelenting photographs, each leaving him more dizzied than the last. Clutching his head, he staggered blindly into a smaller tunnel, running his hand along the stone. 

When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing knee-deep in some kind of slush. It was warm around his ankles and bubbled with an odor that made his eyes water. He took a step forward, noting the viscosity of the liquid. It stretched like melted rubber but gave way when he pushed hard enough. Akira shuddered as the bubbles popped, releasing a foul-smelling gas. Pulling his shirt over his mouth and nose, he pressed onward, focusing his watery eyes on the dim, grey light at the end of the tunnel. Slowly but surely, Akira made it to the other side, his boots squelching in the wet mud. He gagged, glancing down at his once-clean combat boots. 

Putting the thought of cleaning them to the back of his mind, Akira peered into the gloom, trying to make out where the light he was following was sourced. The images of the door buzzed in his head again, hammering the need to find it into his head. Akira squeezed his eyes shut and pressed onward, gritting his teeth. 

After wandering around the tunnels for what seemed like hours, Akira finally stopped to collect his thoughts. He wasn't any closer to finding the door, and if he kept wandering around without any clue of where he was, he'd get hopelessly lost. He sighed, leaning against the wall. Something scuffled in the distant darkness, and Akira tensed up, looking around for the source of the noise. He scoured the gloom for anything that could have made the noise, and backed up around a corner. The stone was warm behind his hands. Akira frowned, then glanced around the corner, only to find that nothing was there. He sighed, then leaned against the wall again. 

"Idiot." A voice chimed out from next to him. Akira jumped, instinctively punching whatever it was that spoke in the stomach. 

"Ow," The person grunted, then cuffed him lightly over the head. "Watch it." 

Akira glared at the hooded figure in the darkness, then scoffed. "I was wondering when you'd show up." 

Crow sighed, tugging his hood further over his hair. "I seem to recall telling you to stay out of here. I find it rather hard to believe you want to piss me off that much, so what are you here for?"

The dark-haired boy gave Crow a surly stare, then begrudgingly admits the truth. "I saw the door again. I wanted to check it out before it gave me a migraine, so I came down here. I was hoping you wouldn't be here."

"You wound me, truly." He drawled, then nodded in the direction that he came from. "Come on. I think I know where you're headed." 

He strode off into the dim tunnel, Akira jogging after him. "You're not going to send me back?" 

"Unless you take too long following me, I won't. Hurry up before I change my mind." 

Akira complied, tucking his hands into his pockets as he followed the cloaked young man in front of him. Crow pressed himself against walls, peering dramatically around corners and dashing across hallways. Akira had to stifle a laugh when he jumped slightly over a small dip in the floor. It drew downwards into thick, swirling darkness. It was dizzyingly deep but relatively small in diameter. As he stretched his leg across the small cliff, Crow turned around. Eyeing Akira suspiciously, he looked pointedly down at the miniature canyon. 

"That goes deep, you know. If you did somehow fall down, you'd likely fall for a few hours and die." He said, rather melodramatically. 

Akira snorted. "Sure, okay. I'll be carefu-" 

His foot backed onto the small cliff, and he wobbled precariously at the edge. Crow grabbed him by the front of the shirt, wrenching him away from the fall and slamming him into the wall. Akira's face hit the stone with a thud, and Crow leaned the side of his shoulder against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other. 

"You possess the elegance of a swan, Joker. Please, demonstrate again, but this time without my assistance." His eyes were sharp, and Akira could tell he was smirking, even with the mask in the way. 

Akira groaned, pushing himself off the wall and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Am I bleeding? I think I'm bleeding." 

"You're not." 

Akira moaned again, checking his hand for any blood as he lowered it from his face. "I'm prone to nosebleeds, you know. I know what one feels like, and this feels like I'm bleeding." 

Crow stared at him with bored, red eyes. "You aren't having a nosebleed, Joker."

Akira stared at Crow for a very long time, squinting incredulously at his masked face. For good measure, he checked his hand for blood one final time. Nothing stained his fingertips. He sighed, then nodded forward. 

"Okay, okay, let's go." 

They meandered through the catacombs, the occasional short-tempered statement from Crow following Akira's dry insults. It wasn't long before they stumbled into unknown territory. The marshy ground swam around Akira's ankles, puckering around the tracks he left in the mud. He pulled a face, shaking the bluish-black sludge from his boot. 

"God, that's disgusting." He complained, grimacing at the stickiness of it. 

Crow furrowed his brow and knelt down, swiping his index finger through the sludge. "How odd. I didn't think we'd gone as far down as to reach water." 

He stood up again, flicking it from his hand and carrying on towards the dry breeze up ahead. Akira begrudgingly followed, shoving his hands in his pockets. When the mud trembled for the first time, he didn't think twice about it. It was faint, like a fingertip brushing against the metal-coated string of a violin. They soldiered on, although the light from the tunnel ahead didn't seem to be getting closer. Akira shivered as a breeze drifted through the marshy cave, but the temperature was not cold. It felt like a warm, wet breath on the back of his neck, claustrophobic and encroaching. It seemed like Crow sensed it too. He brought his hood further down over his head. He grimaced, then grabbed Akira's wrist, starting to sprint. 

The mud seemed to push against them, but as Akira's breaths grew labored and the air began to get hotter, the light at the end of the cavern seemed to get closer. The breeze let out a moan as they passed onto solid, dry ground, and all humidity left the air. 

"What was that?" Akira panted, trying to catch his breath. 

Crow shook his head. "I'm not quite sure." 

Niijima Makoto stood in front of the Dean's desk, her hands clasped behind her back. She watched as he got off of his chair and strode over to the window. Imperiously peering down at the meadow below one of the many turrets of the building, he frowned. 

"Niijima, when did you tell him to see me?" He asked, inspecting the dustless windowpane.

Makoto bit her lip. "A while ago, sir. I've tried asking around, but he seems to be out, currently."

Kobayakawa frowned, then turned to face her with a look in his eyes that could slaughter a small animal. "He is to see me _immediately_. Have I not made myself clear?"

"You _have_!" Makoto raised her hands in defense, wincing. "You have, sir. I'll find him."

"Good." Kobayakawa tapped his fingers on the cuffs of his blazer, his stern face reflected in the glass. 

The air was thick and cloying with dust, clinging to the back of Akira's throat as he staggered into the dim light. Crow followed close behind, his shoulders shaking as he coughed. Flickering firelight from the torches danced on the walls, their smoke drifting up into an abyss of space above them. 

"Huh." Akira hummed, "I didn't think there was this much space beneath the Academy." 

Crow walked further into the hallway, then stopped to look up. "There isn't." 

Without expanding on his statement, he continued into the shivering light of the torches, footsteps echoing around the cavernous hallways. Jogging to keep up, Akira called out after him. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

He wasn't graced with an answer. Crow pressed his hand to the rough stone wall, then peered further into the distance. A faint gust of air flew through the corridor, ruffling Akira's hair. 

"This way." Crow pointed to the source of the wind. 

Scoffing, Akira shoved his hands in his pockets. "There's only one way." 

Nevertheless, he followed the hooded young man, the wind picking up as they traveled further through the rough-hewn stone passageways, the scent of saltwater growing stronger. The tunnels widened as they walk through them, the quiet sound of dripping growing clearer. 

The chamber they emerged into is vast, with stalactites adorned with strange symbols, dripping saltwater into murky pools of water. A clammy, damp feeling hung in the air, pressing to the back of Akira's neck like a wet cloth. His eyes traveled to the far wall to his left, and his breath caught in his throat. 

The door was wide and tall, with a long, wicked-looking crack through the middle of it. It wound from side to side, creeping along each panel of stone. Akira watched as a dark, thick liquid seemed to stir in the darkness of the rift. His feet moved for him, walking along the expanse of the room to the door until he was an arm's length away. It whispered like it was alive, murmuring slithering things that curled in his ears and vibrated in his skull. The blood in his veins felt as if it was boiling, urging him to touch the cold stone and let go of _everything_. 

_Oh, my little one, you have finally arrived._

Akira's mouth was dry, and his fingers were an inch away from the door, and the dark liquid was bubbling in the division, thick and hot. 

_I do love you, but you do not yet know my affection and its many forms. Come, touch my tomb, and I will show you the purest form of love that you will ever know._

Just as his fingertips were about to brush against the rough-hewn stone, a gloved hand snatched his wrist away, pulling him away from the door. 

"You _imbecile_ , why are you touching it?" Crow hissed, gripping his wrist tightly. 

Akira gaped at him, blood rushing in his ears like the sound of the ocean. "I don't know." 

He looked over at his shoulder, staring at the crack in the door. There was nothing behind it, just shadowy rock. The boiling liquid was gone. 

"I don't know." 

Crow escorted him back to the entrance, dropping him off at the library. He stuck to the shadows, trying to avoid the other students in the room. 

"If I see you in there again, I'm going to knock you unconscious and drag you back by the hair." He growled through gritted teeth, tugging his hood over his forehead. 

Akira ran a hand through his hair. "It's cute how you think I'll let you get close enough." 

Crow grabbed the front of his shirt, tugging him forward. Leaning close, he whispered into Akira's ear, his voice sly and barely above a whisper. 

"If you think I'm cute when I'm picturing you being dragged by your hair out of a tunnel, you're going to find me drop-dead gorgeous when I actually do it." He murmured, and Akira swallowed. "Is this close enough for you to believe me?" 

Drawing back, Crow stared down at Akira through his eyelashes, and if the mask wasn't in the way, Akira would have thought he was about to be kissed. Or bitten. The two were interchangeable with Crow, he hypothesized. Then, just as quickly as he was grabbed, he was dropped from Crow's grasp, staggering backward into a wall. Crow's eyes narrowed as Akira rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the floor. His face was hot, and he could practically see himself blushing, but he looked up. 

"Yeah," He squeaked. "It's close enough. See you around." 

Nodding, the hooded young man slipped behind a bookcase. "Not if you're lucky." 

And with a final glare, Crow was gone, off into some secret passageway. Akira stared at the bookshelf, trying to calm his nerves. His face was still hot, and the tips of his ears were burning, both of which were indications that Akira was getting into more than he bargained for. That, and the voice of the door. 

When Akira tried to remember it, it shifted from a light, airy, high voice to a deep, rich tone, and then to the voice of himself. It was like looking at a map through a kaleidoscope, the wheels of colors turning as he tried to plot out his next move. Should he even move? Was he getting into something too much for him to handle? Crow was a professional... Whatever he was, but Akira? Akira was in his first year of college, fresh out of the funeral parade, and just figuring out how to function without the condescending stare of his mother and the harsh fists of his father. Sighing, Akira slumped against the bookshelf, holding his head in his hands. The more he thought about the door, the voice, and the dark liquids bubbling behind it, the more his head swam. 

"Oh, my! Akira, are you alright?" A soft voice called out. Bleary-eyed, Akira lifted his head up. A manicured hand in a pink lace glove was outstretched in front of him. Looking further up, Akira took in the smiling, round face of Haru. 

"Hello, Akira." She said softly, pulling him to his feet. "I was just looking for you. Would you mind helping me with something?" 

Numbly, Akira nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets and running his thumb over the lighter. "Alright. Lead the way." 

The greenhouse was warm, with vines creeping along the structure of the building. Hanging baskets were suspended by the pillars, dripping with water. Akira balanced on a rickety stool, holding a silver watering can, and directing the nozzle where Haru pointed. 

"Just a little bit to the left, dear." She called out, taking a small china cup off of the table. 

She was sat at a table underneath a gazebo, surrounded by violets and carnations in pots and trellises. Her wide-brimmed hat was placed on the seat next to her, and a pendulum swung from her left hand. Trying to maintain balance, Akira looked over his shoulder, watching the purple gem hang above the lace tablecloth. The light arced off of it as leaves dappled the sunlight, swaying as Akira maneuvered the watering can with unforetold difficulty. 

As the watering can ran out, he stepped off of the ladder, placing it down on the brick-paved floor. Haru looked up, catching the pendulum mid-swing. She smiled. The milky moonstone pendant on her collar reflected the light, dancing underneath her eyes like a candle over water.

"Would you care for some tea?" Haru asked, her gloved hands lingering by the clear teapot. 

Akira nodded, sitting down at the table across from her. "That would be nice." 

As she poured the tea out into the glass cup, the pendulum clinked against the surface of the teapot. Akira cocked his head to the side. 

Haru set the teapot down, offering Akira sugar and milk, which he graciously accepted. "You know, I find that when someone is at a loose end, a little garden work is just the thing to get them back on track." 

Akira laughed a little, raising the teacup to his mouth. "Because you can't reach the high points." 

"Because I cannot reach the high points," Haru confirmed, nodding slowly. She uncurled the silver chain of the pendulum from around her index finger and held it still over the table. 

Akira set down his teacup. "What does it do?"

"Marbled amethyst. So beautiful, no?" She mused. "A pendulum can answer my questions when I need them answered. Here, let me show you." 

She set her teacup to the side, then smoothed down the table cloth in preparation. "Show me 'yes.'" 

Akira watched as the chain straightened like a knife, then swung gently in a circle, clockwise. 

Lifting her pinkie finger, she stopped the swinging crystal. "Show me 'no.'"

Fascinated, Akira saw the chain straighten once again, then swing swiftly from side to side, striking each upbeat like a metronome.

Haru nodded, and the instrument fell still instantly, quivering with tension like a magnet being held away from its polar opposite. She looked up at Akira, laughing softly as his eyes widened in shock and enthrallment. Clearing her throat, Haru kept her eyes trained on Akira. 

"There is another reason I called you here, I must confess." She says, the dappled light streaming through the glass roof playing on her face. "I require your help on yet again deciphering a prophecy."

Akira cleared his throat. "Same one? Finding the Ninth?" 

Haru laughed sheepishly, the pendulum unmoving in her shaking hand. "I'm afraid so. You don't have to stay if you don't want to, but it would be greatly appreciated if you had any contributions to add to the questions I ask my pendulum."

"Of course," He replied, leaning an arm on the table. "I'll stick around. What kind of questions did you want me to ask?" 

Haru hummed in thought, watching the violet gemstone with a quiet curiosity behind her eyes. "Ask it if the Ninth is a good thing." 

He did as he was told. The pendulum swing in a small circle and Haru hummed in thought, nodding her head slowly. Akira sat back in his chair, listening to the next question Haru asked. 

"Is the Ninth an artifact?" She queried. The pendulum swung from side to side, indicating a "no."

It was at that moment when a breeze flooded the humid air of the greenhouse. In the doorway, Nijiima was standing with one hand in her pocket, the other wrapped around the white-painted metal of the door handle. Immediately, Akira tensed, bringing his shoulders up around his ears. Her face darkened when she laid eyes on him, dark red in a similar color to Crow's, but without the shine of a cut ruby. She frowned, marching over to them, her boots thumping on the grates in the floor. 

Haru looked up, smiling brightly. "Oh, Makoto, I'm so glad you're here. Have you met Akira?" 

She nodded curtly and glared at him sharply. " _Charmed_. The Dean wants to see you, and you'd do well to make it there quickly. You've ignored him once already, and his patience is running thin."

"I'll see myself out," He said, pushing the chair back from the table. "Good luck with your pendulum thing, Haru."

She watched Akira leave with a look on her face of confusion and worry. As soon as Akira was walking to the door, Makoto was sitting in the seat in front of Haru. Her hands gently rested on Haru's gloved ones, setting the pendulum down. 

"He's dangerous, Haru." Makoto chided softly, glancing over her shoulder as the door closed behind Akira.

Clicking her tongue in disapproval, Haru shook her head from side to side. "You're far too worried, dear. Akira couldn't hurt a fly."

Makoto frowned, her mouth set in a grim line. "You'd think that, but you haven't seen what he can do." 

"Then pray tell," The witch drawled, "what _can_ he do?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> makoto is peak protective gf but haru could instantly crush a man with a snap of her fingers, so you can figure out the dynamic there.


End file.
